


The Best Mistake of My Life

by Anika_Ann



Series: Errare Humanum Est [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Attempt at humour, Cute, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Meet-Cute, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Nick Fury is so done, Post-Avengers (2012), Reader-Insert, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Steve Rogers and the 21st Century, Strangers to Lovers, Thor Is Being Thor, Tony Stark Is Not Helping, steve rogers is a sweetheart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-02-08 18:26:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18628792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anika_Ann/pseuds/Anika_Ann
Summary: They say having a soulmate is a blessing. Who wouldn’t love the idea of star-crossed lovers, right?Neither Steve Rogers nor you consider yourself lucky though. It probably has something to do with the lines written on your skin. Because if the words are anything to go by, you’re not sure you want to meet each other.Set mostly after The Avengers.EDIT: I'm incorrigible. I'm adding more chapters.EDIT2: Six chapters, that’s it. I need to get a hold of myself dammit. ... Eh, to hell with it, seven is a nicer number anyway.





	1. The words

**Author's Note:**

> Perhaps it’s a bit silly, but I’m finally crossing out Soulmate AU of my mental writer’s bucket list. I wanted to do that for a loooong time, because I adore that trope. So here’s one of my takes on it, I’m afraid I might write another one sometime in the future; clearly, that’s what my brain does, coming up with fluffy short stories concerning Steve.
> 
> Enjoy? And if you’re willing, let me know what you thought, no matter how ;)

Steve Rogers was born a sickly baby.

Born a sickly boy to a single mother in the time of great depression, money thin, his health even thinner and having a pathetic number of friends; though that never really bothered him. What his friendships lacked in quantity was hundred times compensated by quality. Bucky Barnes’ loyalty was everything Steve could ask for.

And what Steven Grant Rogers himself lacked in height and strength of body was made up for by the strength of will, amount of determination and a great compassionate heart, ready to welcome anyone sans bullies there.

Perhaps God had seen that Steven would grow into a man carrying his heart on his sleeve and decided that this man should be blessed with a love so magnificent they would tell stories about it; people always had. People were always telling tales about soulmates.

Having a soulmate wasn’t necessarily rare, but not everyone was bound to have one. Being one of the lucky ones was an amazing gift; a promise of a connection as unbreakable as the thread of fate, a promise of an unconditional love.

To know person had found the one, their soulmate, those who were blessed with one wore a brand on their skin, a clue to allow them to recognize their destined partner; a set of words.

It was the set of words what was troubling Steve Rogers the most. Despite Bucky’s reassurance, despite his mother’s last words, despite Steve's willingness to fight everything else the world would kick into his way, he found moments in his life he cursed the words written on his skin, reminding him how weak he would always seem to people.

Above the visible line of his collarbone, sticking out on his rather skeletal frame, there sat the words of doom:

_‘Oh no, there must be a mistake.’_

The very first time his soulmate would spoke to him… they would be disappointed and silently praying that whatever force was behind bounding souls together made one hell of a misstep. _A mistake_.

That was what Steve was going to be to his soulmate; a mistake. A failure. A disappointment.

And why wouldn’t he be? Ninety-pounds of rattling bones, list of illnesses longer than his birth certificate…. Every girl Bucky had ever tried to set him up with out of pity (which Bucky would deny until his last breath) had been disappointed.

“Maybe she’ll be more into brunettes. Maybe she won’t believe her soulmate is blond at first,” his friend would say, “or she’ll be from Queens and wouldn’t get over the fact you’re not, but once you’ll show her the true Brooklyn charm, she’ll fall to your feet.”

Then he would always pat Steve’s shoulder, pulling him into a one-arm hug and tried to get him a date once more.

Steve didn’t believe him. He never did, but recognizing his friend felt better if Steve played along, he would smile and poke his ribs in return.

“Whatever you say. Jerk.”

…

Much later, when he said to Peggy Carter that he was waiting for the right partner to dance with, he was starting to admit to himself that he wasn’t thinking about his so-called soulmate as the one. After all, he went against all odds, against rules, against destiny itself when he had been accepted to the army regardless of his fragile body. Maybe, just maybe it meant that not ending up with his soulmate was what would happen one day.

When he crushed the Valkyrie to the ocean, not even having taken a chance on Peggy Carter despite her obvious interest, he must admit he had been lying to himself.

His last realization concerned his soulmate; despite wanting to fight against the whole world, he couldn’t make himself to take a chance on Peggy Carter, a brilliant woman who was _not_ carrying the right set of words.

His last regret was that he would never meet his true love.

His last thought was that maybe, his soulmate never had a set of words spoken by him on her skin – her first words to him might as well be the ones spoken when reading his obituary, somehow knowing he was supposed to belong with her.

-.-.-.-.-.-

The moment you were old enough to understand the meaning of the word ‘soulmate’, you were intrigued by the concept; it probably had everything to do with the fact that you too were supposed to have a person meant to be your other half.

Every parent was bound to be delighted when their child was born with that kind of blessing, but the older you were getting, the more you understood what kind of a shock might occur when a kid had rather strange line supposedly spoken to them by their universe-chosen partner for life.

There were people who had words like ‘ _shit’_ on them; literally. Not very delightful. Sometimes there were general lines like _‘Hello, how are you?”_. Good luck hunting down the right person. In contrary, some people had a name on them; ‘ _Hi, I’m Peter Cameron.’_ Lucky bastards.

And then… then there were people like you, whose words were just… weird. 

 _“But I really am 95,”_ you mumbled under your breath, tracing the handwriting right under your collarbone subconsciously, the first thing you did in the morning if you remembered – which wasn’t every day, not by a long shot.

“This is the stupidest thing ever…”

You shook your head and started to get ready for your day at the office.

Your opinion on your soulmark had been changing during the years. You had had a period of fascination, simply being proud of carrying it. Then you had understood the meaning of your words, and you had been horrified and desperate at the idea of meeting your soulmate at such age or worse, having one that old while you would be thirty or something when encountering them.

Then had come the phase of _how could I avoid having a grandpa as my soulmate._ Maybe the number meant something different – your soulmate’s weight (you really wouldn’t care for that, you reasoned), his temperature (he might be hypothermic at the moment, no?), his hotel room number, the number of a seat in a theatre perhaps… there were so many possibilities, right?

Now, you just tried not to think about it too hard. You had had boyfriends, never lasting longer than few months sans the one exception of George, who had turned out to be the biggest asshole in the world despite your belief he had might have been the one; until you had caught him in bed with another girl.

Maybe it was that deep inside you had never believed in the relationships you had, because the guy never said the right first words. Or maybe you were full of shit and you couldn’t keep a guy interested, god only knew – hence not thinking about it too hard, going on with your life and taking it as it was.

You might meet him, you might not. It wouldn’t be the first case of never encountering a soulmate. Life was funny that way.

Best not to let it ruin your day. A rather nice day it was, today. If you only didn’t have to spend it in the crowded office with people demanding their licences and taking out their frustrations on you. Well. You were a grown-up; you had to be okay with things not always being okay. Which sucked. But that was life.

…

You had a chance to have a shortest coffee break to exchange hello’s with Ryan – your actual favourite person in the world, your platonic ‘soulmate’ (not in the ominous sense of the word), your boss who never really acted like a boss – and that was it. Apparently, half of Manhattan had gotten their licence this very date years back, so the office was ridiculously crowded. Thank god for the glass between you and the jungle; it shielded you at least partly.

You grabbed the file of request no. 57 that day – you were like a machine, okay, you couldn’t remember the office ever managing to deal with so many in only three hours – pulling out the documents and the licence to make another driver happy.

Your hands were acting on autopilot and you didn’t even glance up when an ID was pushed to you through the small space between the glass and the counter, checking the renewed licence first.

Your first thought was ‘ _oh wow’._ That guy on the photo was gorgeous. You couldn’t help but snap your head up, checking out the real-life thing.

_OH WOW._

Scratch the ‘gorgeous’. Replace it with ‘ _unreal’._

You were tempted to ask if he was made by an ancient sculptor and then brought to life, because his body was as incredible as his face; the broadness of his shoulders begged for a touch. His muscular arms were not so hidden in the sleeves of his dark green shirt. The shoulder-waist ratio was clearly a God’s mistake, a one you were thankful for.

Forget ancient sculptures. His face must have been sculptures by angels and they left him with a halo of blond hair as a reminder. And his eyes. _Oh god, such pretty eyes…_

He gave you an unsure smile, opening his mouth to probably accuse you of staring and you quickly dropped your gaze, returning to check the licence before you would give it to him.  

Your hand froze hovering above the date of birth. You hesitantly looked up again, biting your lip guiltily despite not being the one who had messed up. You felt kinda sorry for him waiting the line for nothing.

“Oh no, there must be a mistake…” you half apologized, half said only to yourself, meeting his suddenly alarmed gaze.

You put on your most apologetic face, hoping he wouldn’t be too mad. How had someone messed it up again? The birth dates were with typos all the time. _How?!_ There were only numbers for God’s sake! It wasn’t like the person inserting the data to the computer had to spell Buchwald or Mxyzptlk or something like that!

_Damn you, Sheryl or Kira or you whoever have done this!_

The man – Steven Grant Rogers, as you had learned from his sadly valueless driving licence – was staring at you, speechless. You were honestly getting worried, though you weren’t sure if you were more scared for him or for yourself in case of his reaction escalating.

So you went to explain.

“Uhm… I’m really sorry, mister-“ You quickly eyed the name on the ID he had given you, checking if the office got that thing right at least. “-Rogers, but there seems to be a typo in… in your birth date. I apologize for the mistake our institution made, even though I wasn’t the one to-- you don’t need to know that, it doesn’t matter-- I’m so sorry you have to come here again, but I can’t really let you walk around or rather _drive_ around with a licence claiming you were born in 1918, so…”

You had become so flustered, your cheeks burning, talking and _talking_ without being able to stop, not making any sense even, until-

“But I really am 95,” he admitted sheepishly and you wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of that statement, when something in your brain clicked.

The click was about as loud as an atomic bomb falling on Hiroshima. You were sure everyone had to hear it.

It shut you up immediately. Your whole body froze, your mind buzzing uselessly, not a single thought staying long enough for you to actually understand it. Until two words got stuck, shining in red letters like a neon sign in your brain.

Holy. Shit.

“Excuse me,” you squeaked, grabbing his useless licence and mechanically rising from your seat, walking away.

The moment no one could see you as you got into a hallway, you broke into a run. You acted on instinct. You ran and you ended up in front of Ryan’s office, stumbling in without knocking and without an atom of oxygen left in your lungs.

Ryan’s neatly combed hair swayed as he snapped his head to the door, his eyes strict until they took the newcomer – hint: you – in, widening instantly.

He quickly jumped to his feet, pacing to you.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” he asked, voice filled with worries.

You weren’t able to answer, because—holy shit. Your eyes frantically scanned the room, unable to meet your friend’s gaze. “I-- I-“

A hand landed on your shoulder, your eyes immediately falling on it on instinct. Shit, you couldn’t breathe. Could you?

Ryan’s free hand found you chin, tilting your head so you faced him. “Hey, baby, look at me! What happened? Was someone too much of an asshole to you?”

“I’m not-- he’s-“

Ryan’s face screamed concern, but he had fixed it in a second, soothing smile on his lips. He led you to his sofa, the calming blue cushions enveloping you.

“Sit down on your ass and gimme that,” he maneuverer the document off the steely grip of your fingers, sitting next to you as he looked it over. “Huh, quite a looker this guy. So what did he do?“

“I—the- the licence says he was born in---in 1918,” you stammered, finally able to breathe in properly and _speak._

Ryan squinted at the date and then rolled his eyes.

“Oh jeez, again? Why is it so hard to just get it right? I swear I’m gonna have to fire Sheryl, she’s a disaster. What’s wrong with her? It’s not like they would be making a licence for someone that old! There’s a photo goddammit!”

“Ry-Ry… he said he was 95.”

Another eye-roll was his answer. “Yeah, I can count. He would have been if he was born in 1918 instead of 1981.”

“No, you don’t-“ you licked your lips and swallowed against the lump that grew in your throat. Your voice was as shake as your hands. “He just told me that. That he really was 95.”

Your friend observed you silently for a beat, not following. And then realization hit him like a train.

“Oh. _OH._ No shit?!”

It was your turn to stare silently, your mind loud enough to make noise and fill the space of Ryan office.

“Damn, does he really look like that? Lucky bitch!”

“Ryan!” you yelped in surprise when his fist bumped your shoulder, almost knocking you off balance.

It worked though. It grounded you and threw you back to reality. You tried your best to calm your breathing, but damn. This guy… he was your soulmate. You just met your soulmate. And he wasn’t a grandpa. He didn’t weight 95 pounds either. You weren’t in a hotel, neither in a theatre.

No. The number was only about one tiny mistake— oh, ohhh shit, what was the first thing you had said to him? Oh fuck. _Way to go, girl!_

“Are you okay?” Ryan asked rubbing the spot he had punched.

“No!” you shot back immediately, your mind racing.

“You know what I mean. You look better now. Though I gotta say, so is he. His face really is quite easy on the eyes . How about the rest of him?”

_Ry-Ry, your bi-side is showing._

You chuckled at the easy talk, the tension from your shoulders falling a bit.

“Well… yeah, he’s like a model. So out of my league…” you muttered, remembering your ogling. This guy was your soulmate? Wasn’t it a mistake?

Ryan was suspiciously quiet; normally you would expect him to scold you for selling yourself short. Instead, he was staring at the licence, his lips parted in silent shock.

What now?

“What?” you demanded, following his line of gaze.

Ryan just chuckled, the incredulous sound ringing, echoing in the quiet space. “Girl, I hate to break it to you, but I might not fire Sheryl just yet.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “What?”

“Remember that one time aliens were falling from the sky?”

You blinked in surprise at that question, not following his train of thoughts. “Uhm… yeah? Pretty hard to forget that…?”

You were lucky you hadn’t been smashed under a building that day. Many people in Manhattan were, some sadly not. So yeah, you remembered.

“You remember the waitress from the café talking after the incident?”

“Oh my god, Ry-Ry, just spill it! I’m not following!”

Your friend huffed in exasperation, shoving the licence in your face, his finger on the name.

 _Steven Grant Rogers._ Yeah, you could read too.

“That name should ring a bell, you dumbass! Would you say that this guy is handsome enough to be Captain America?” he hissed, making your heart stop.

Oh. Oh shit.

OH SHIT.

Your brain short-circuited.

“Oh my god. He really is 95,” you breathed out, your brain somehow choosing the least logical reaction to this whole revelation.

Ryan laughed. “Ding-ding, we have a winner! Holy crap, baby, I think you just got yourself a superhero soulmate!”

And just like that, you started panicking again. You gulped, watching the driving licence as if it could blow up.

“Shit, Ry-Ry! What do I do?” you whispered, desperation soaking through. What were you supposed to do upon that revelation? Captain America was your freaking soulmate!

Ryan smiled at you reassuringly, patting your cheek. “Not coming back to your spot behind the counter today, that’s for sure.”

“But-“

“I’m going in. I think this place won’t blow up if I fill in for once. I sure hope I remember the process, though I’m probably not gonna be as efficient as you are.”

You didn’t know what to say. Hell, you didn’t know what to _do!_ But yeah, not coming back to the jungle sounded good, especially given your frantic escape.

“You really would do that?” you asked hesitantly and Ryan just rolled his eyes. “But… Ryan, what the hell do _I_ do?!”

Your bestie gave you a lopsided smile and a wink, patting your cheek patronizingly once more before heading to take over your workplace.

“Whatever you want, baby. Whatever you want.”

-.-.-.-.-.-

While you were having your own freak-out, Steve was standing at the counter, dumb-struck.

He couldn’t believe it. You had actually said those words. And judging by your reaction to his own, he must have said yours. Which… yeah, _congratulation, Rogers, you had given your Universe-chosen dame an amazing note on her skin._ To be fair, so had she.

 _Incredible_.

 _Impossible_.

His soulmate was in this century. In this millennia. That was what he got for ever thinking he could escape fate; a slap right in his face.

Because while for several cherished moments, he basked in the light on his soulmate not considering the pairing with him the infamous mistake the words on his skin claimed… he soon learned that it didn’t mean no heartbreak for him.

You had taken an abrupt leave to the back of the office and never came back.

Few minutes later, a man emerged from the door you had disappeared into, taking your seat and without a second look at Steve’s ID, he explained that Steve would have to come here again.

Steve didn’t care for the process of getting his driving licence renewed in the slightest, barely listening. His gaze was at the door to the hall, opened ajar, the door you didn’t return from after learning he was meant to be your partner.

When he had seen you behind the desk, he had considered you a beautiful dame, certain his heart had skipped a beat when your eyes met his. The sight of you was burned into his brain, now forever as a painful memory.

Clearly, you didn’t want him. Not because he was sickly, 95 pounds or 5’7’’ or all bones. Not because your words to him were about a mistake. Not because he was from Brooklyn. No. Honestly, Steve didn’t know why, what could scare you off so soon. He just knew you had escaped at the mere sight of him.

With his mind fuzzy, he walked out of the building into the bright nearly midday sun, blaming the sharp rays for the sting in his eyes. He sighed, running his hand down his face, suddenly bone tired.

“Mr. Rogers?” a shy female voice addressed him, instantly making him turn around to its source.

His lips parted in awe. There you stood, your airy floral dress reaching your knees, played with by the softest breeze. Hesitant smile on your lips. A tiniest spark in your eyes as he subconsciously took two steps to you, just to prove you would still be there if he came closer. You didn’t disappear.

“Y-yes?” he stuttered, actually feeling like the small man he had used to be before the serum.

You quietly introduced yourself, meeting his eyes once more, effectively stopping his heart again. You offered your hand for him to shake and he, feeling like he was dreaming, something else possessing his body, kissed your knuckles as he would have done if meeting you seventy years ago.

The most adorable heat warmed your cheeks at the gesture and you casted your gaze down; but Steve did catch a glimpse of the earlier spark shining brighter before you hid yourself from him.

“I… I believe we have a lot to talk about,” you whispered and he instinctively gave your hand a gentle squeeze before letting go and shifting a half step closer to you. The corners of his lips unwittingly turned up, something warm building up in his chest as you returned the smile with hesitance.

“Yes, I think we do.”

-.-.-.-.-.-

Nicolas J. Fury was sitting in his office, waiting for the door to finally open. There was something bugging him – and that something was about 5’7’' tall, had red hair and was doing whatever it wanted, messing with his business. On top of that, she left him waiting; he had requested her ten minutes ago and she still hadn’t arrived.

He couldn’t help but let his sarcasm show when she came eventually.

“Agent Romanoff. _Thank you for coming_. Now, care to explain me why did you insist on Rogers getting his driving license renewed in person when we have done it for him already?” he demanded, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his desk.

The agent just shrugged. “He needs to meet people.”

“Don’t give me this shit, Natasha! What are you not telling me?”

Slow smirk spread Natasha’s lips, perhaps a bit smug, but she didn’t say a word.

“Romanoff-“

“Alright! Jeez, Nick, you have to work on your patience when it comes to Rogers, I swear…” she teased him. However, at least she started talking. “I might have run his… _words_ through the system Stark provided us.”

Realization dawned to Fury. There was only one system she could be talking about. The soulmate matching one. Insert the words of a person and it would search the database for a possible match; everyone’s _words_ were being put into the database at their birth. It made SHIELD’s work easier in case criminals happened to have a soulmate; the connection was so unique it usually offered a weak spot even for the rotten people.

Nicolas Fury raised his eyebrow expectantly, while Natasha just watched him, amused as she had the upper hand. The man rolled his functioning eye and sighed exasperatedly. Why was he keeping her around again? Oh right, she was his best agent.

“Fine. Did you find a match?”

Natasha snorted. “I didn’t even have to look for a _match._ There aren’t many women with _‘But I really am 95’_ written on their skin,” she explained dryly and Fury just wanted to growl, cursing mentally.

How had no one thought about using the database in the first place?! It had cost them a lot of money, okay? They had it for a reason!

“She clean?” he inquired instead or swearing out loud and Natasha scoffed.

“Like a whistle, not even a speed ticket, which is rather ironic. She’s boring, really – she’ll be perfect for him. Can I go now? I have an ass to kick.”

“…Rogers’?”

“Barton’s, actually. Have a good day, Director,” Natasha spun on her heels and headed to the exit gracefully.

“Hey, I want her file!” Fury complained, already knowing he wasn’t going to receive it from her.

“Find it yourself!” she threw over her shoulder cockily, her red hair swirling with the sudden movement of her head.

The director of SHIELD tried to keep his amusement in check, controlled by the irritation, but he lost. The corners of his lips twitched as the door clicked behind his best spy.

_Why did he keep her around again?_

He started the search for the words Natasha had said, sinking into his chair comfortably.

_Alright, no doubt future Mrs. Rogers. Let’s see how boring you really are._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you leave kudos or/and a comment, I’ll be delighted ♥
> 
> By the way, I saw The Endgame last night. And let me tell you, I don’t feel so good. It was magnificent… but I’m not okay.


	2. What a gentleman

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Exam time ahead. So, logically, I felt the need to turn off my brain…
> 
> This AU is still on my mind and I need soft Steve. And a bit of angst, but it will get better in the next part, promise ;)

The diner had quite an atmosphere and on any other occasion, you would have been fascinated, easily being pulled decades back in time. Today however, your attention wasn't on the decor too much. You had very different things on your mind; like a certain man with a built of a Hercules and a spine-melting smile – if a little nervous one.

"Is this place alright?" his soft voice snapped you from the space of your own head.

You gave a tiny nod, letting him lead you farther in. He picked a table in the back, away from the giant windows to the street; you were glad for that despite the nice weather.

You would have stayed outside to begin with, but Steve had asked whether you had been hungry and to your enormous embarrassment, your stomach had replied. To his credit, he hadn't laughed, only frowning a bit while he had clearly been biting back a smile; what a gentleman.

Your waitress appeared quickly, leaving with your order written down just as fast, and you found yourself alone… with your soulmate. Your 95-year-old soulmate. How crazy was that?

You had no idea what you say, finding him silently watching you; either he was unable to form words as well or he was waiting for you to gather your thoughts and wanted to let you speak first. Once again – what a gentleman.

You cleared your throat awkwardly. "So… uhm. You're… you're really 95."

God bless him, he only grimaced a little, not commenting on the stupidity of your statement. As far as communication with him went, you were being excellent.

'Oh no, there must be a mistake,' calling him mister instead of captain (then again, you hadn’t asked if he was one just yet), your stomach answering his questions and now this. Where did your ability to talk go? On vacation?

"Uhm… yeah. I know this is hard to believe, but… yeah,” he conceded, fidgeting. “I can explain! Also, sorry for being stuck with such words."

Well, speaking of being stuck with words…

"Well, Mr.Rogers-"

"Steve, please."

He had told you that before. Except yeah, it somehow struck you all over again, that his was most likely the man who was remembered for saving many, many lives. You wondered if you should be kissing his boots or the pavement he walked on or something. So, yeah, calling him Steve seemed like a bit of a disrespect. If he was who you thought he was, of course.

"Feels inappropriate. Even the ‘mister’ does," you explained, testing the waters. You believed Ryan was right, but still…

"What would feel appropriate?" he asked, nervously fiddling with his fingers at the edge of the table.

Huh. Alright. Maybe you and Ryan were wrong and he was just a guy? A really, really attractive and nice guy? But why else the whole ‘I'm 95’ thing then? He said he could explain…

"Captain?" you whispered, the tension in his shoulders immediately growing even more intensely. Yeah, _busted_. You were sure now. Captain America was in a diner with you. Because he was your soulmate.

_Oh shit._

"Guess I don't have to explain then…" he murmured, a worried wrinkle forming between his brows.

Before you could comment and tell him that you definitely _needed_ him to explain, because what the hell, you hadn't exactly done your homework, how was the first American hero alive, just HOW?!, he continued.

"Look, I… I spent a good part of my life believing my… soulmate… _you_ , would consider me a mistake," he sighed, “and-“

"Oh god, I'm so sorry!" you blurted out, instantly feeling even worse for the words you had told him. He had lived with the belief that his destined partner would resent him. Great job, me!

He shook his head, never minding the interruption. "And I'll… I'll understand if you do."

That gave you a stop. Wait. What?

"...what? Why would I?"

 _Why_ would you? He was… gorgeous, polite and so far so genuinely nice you thought you just made him in a dreamed-man-machine and as far as you knew, he was a superhero. So… if anyone should be considered a mistake… it was you. Your heart dropped to your stomach when your mind helpfully supplied you with that information. Was that what he thought? That you were unworthy? It would be perfectly understandable after all. How could _you_ even compare to a man like him? You had told Ryan that this man was way out of your league and you hadn’t been kidding.

"Unless that's how you feel… uhm, about me."

His eyes, previously focused on the table, snapped up sharply. "What? Why?"

Wasn't it obvious? You gestured towards your humble self. Wasn't it what he was saying?

"Well, I don't really think I'm considered a superhero girlfriend material," you concluded.

The captain quickly leaned it, his hand gently wrapping around yours. To say you were bewildered at the gesture would be an understatement. You were perfectly lost. And it felt kinda nice, him touching you.

_Shut up._

"That's not what I meant at all!" he exclaimed with urgency, his eyes roaming your whole face, his expression seeming guilty.

Nope, you weren't quite following, though a bit of hope flickered in your heart; his hand didn’t release yours. "You… didn't? I'm sorry, I don't… I don't understand."

"What I meant was… you do know who I am, right?"

"Y-yes. My… uhm, my friend figured it out. I- I don't know much…" you admitted, slightly embarrassed. You never were a fan of history classes. Like… memorising dates. Nope.

"Alright… I crushed a plane during the second world war…"

"That I do know. You saved millions of lives."

His cheeks dusted with a bit of pink as if he was bashful about it.

"I thought it was the end. And I woke up seventy years later…" he bit his lip, his fingers twitching on yours. He blinked in surprise when he noticed them touching you and the blush on his cheeks darkened.

When he tried to retreat, you caught his hand in return, noting the change in his tone. This was not an easy topic for him to talk about and you felt the need to comfort him. He looked at you in wonder at your gesture; you were shocked too, but it was simply an instinct. Bold action on your part, sure, but it still appeared right.

"That was only few months ago. I'm… not fully accustomed to this time." His eyes went strangely absent and you squeezed his fingers reassuringly. "Not to mention that what I do is… dangerous to say at least. I would understand if you rather stayed away."

Heavy silence fell on your table on the last note, interrupted by your waitress. You only managed to stare at Steve as he politely, yet absently, thanked her for your food, conflict all over his face as your hands parted in favour to make space for the plates.

Frankly, you didn't care for food in the slightest, too taken aback and having some serious trouble to process his words.

Now _that_ took a turn you never saw coming.

"So… you wouldn't mind… me being me?" you asked a bit unsurely. You were starting to understand his train of thoughts and your brain was absolutely overwhelmed by it.

The captain – _Steve_ – didn't touch his food either, his brilliant blue eyes with just a drop of green watching you sincerely, wondering what was going on in the head of yours. _Good luck with that._

"I'm not sure what you mean, so I'll say no. You're… you seem like a kind person, you're a… very beautiful woman and-- I'd be lucky if you wouldn't reject me right away."

You chuckled incredulously at that, your heart picking up pace. Oh wow, did he just call you a very beautiful woman? What was the last time someone had done that? (Your mum didn't count.) Were you dreaming?

"Steve…"

He perked up when you finally addressed him correctly.

"I spent my life hoping that I won’t meet my soulmate until I’m 80 at least, because otherwise it would be really creepy. I was hoping the number meant literally anything else than their age. And if I understand correctly, _you_ believed you'd be a disappointment to me. I'm… maybe I can only speak for myself, but I'd say that this is the best possible turn of events I could wish for," you finished with something that resembled an awkward but delighted laugh, believing every word you said.

What better outcome this could have had? You were both young and healthy people and as far as you understood, neither of you were disgusted by the choice the universe had made when binding you. That was awesome, right?

He observed you silently for eternity, his expression unreadable, and you panicked you had read this wrong after all.

"I mean… I think we're soulmates for a reason. It doesn't always work out, I know, but we should at least try, right? Get to know each other? I mean, I know you're Captain America, but you're much more than some persona from the history books and I like to think this deserves a chance-…. Maybe I'm stupid, but-"

During your monologue, his lips curled up into the spine-melting smile again and he reached over the table to catch one of your hands that had been gesturing rather wildly; not that you had noticed until he stopped you.

For the second time that day, his lips brushed your knuckles, sending you into a cardiac arrest and warming up your chest at the innocence and sweetness of such action.

"I think you're _amazing,"_ he breathed out, looking into your eyes from under his incredible pretty eyelashes, effectively turning you into a lovesick puddle.

"You d-do?"

The incredible smile of his was back. _Oh god._ He was _so_ out of your league.

He gently released you and you suddenly felt embarrassed and awkward under his undivided attention.

"I do. And I'd like to know you better too."

"O-okay."

A+ for that response. But could anyone blame you? Steve was actually watching you as if you were the eighth wonder of the world and it was impossible to accept that this was somehow happening.

"Okay," he echoed softly.

He gestured to the food then with one eyebrow questioningly raised and you had to blink, returning back to earth where you had actually come here to eat. You couldn't remember what it felt like being hungry, too overwhelmed with the turn this conversation took and the emotions it swirled.

He had called you _a very beautiful woman._ He had called you _amazing._

Steve waited for you to start eating, only then joining in. What a gentleman. How were you soulmates with this man again? How could you ever deserve him?

You swallowed the bite of food hastily as you felt the sudden urge.

"Steve?"

"Yes, d- yes?"

Any other time, you would wonder what he wanted to say, but you had to get this out of your chest.

"I think you're amazing too," you admitted sheepishly despite the fact it was totally implied he was kind of a god.

You might even feel a bit silly for saying it out loud, but the twinkle in his eyes and the smile that lighted up his face assured you that you didn't misstep. God, he looked as if you just told him the best news he could ever get. It made you nearly choke on your spit.

He was so devastatingly handsome when smiling, radiant… when a spark of a mischief appeared in his irises, a promise of fun on top of the tenderness he had been showing until now, you were done for. That was it; he already owned your heart, just like that. Was it him or was it because of the… soulmate connection? You decided it was both and that it didn't matter.

"I'll try to maintain that cover then."

It took you a moment to realize what he was going at. Right. Soldier. Or a spy, whatever. And apparently a dork. You were such a lucky woman, weren't you?

"Uh-huh, what are you like when you're not undercover then?" you played along, already knowing he actually was that awesome and he couldn’t have been pretending this whole time.

He didn't miss a beat. "Me."

Your eyebrows shot up unwittingly. That was all he was gonna give away?

"Huh. I guess I'll just have to find out, aren't I?"

He charmed a lopsided smile that did something to you on a visceral level, which kinda startled you; you really were falling impossibly fast for him, in every possible way. And you realized you didn't mind at all. You trusted him for some reason, trusted him to catch you in your fall until you could hit the ground. God, you were turning into a complete sap.

"Guess you are," he confirmed cheekily and you smirked as a shot of confidence flooded your veins. Did he think he had the upper hand here? He had said that he hadn’t been fully accustomed, right? There were things you were about to help him adjust to…

"Looking forward to it," you hummed and winked at him before you returned to your pancake with gusto. "Not sure you should feel the same about me, Mr. You. My secret identity might surprise you."

Steve watched you, not blinking, apparently not expecting you mirroring his attitude. He squinted at you playfully and you had to admit you felt the weight that had fallen on your chest earlier, when he had talked about mistakes, disappear into a thin air. You could actually see now that maybe, just maybe, you two could be a good fit despite the terrible differences in the social ladder.

"Are you saying you're trouble, madam?" he pried, something as if strict yet teasing creeping into his voice.

You wondered if it was how he talked to his co-workers and inferiors. He was a captain – he was bound to have inferiors, right? Was this his captain voice then? It tickled your fancy, to be honest.

"I guess you'll have to find out, Sir."

Steve chuckled and shook his head, finishing his food. "I can already tell you are."

"Is it… bad?" you asked, suddenly hesitant.

"No, doll. I actually really, really like it."

The casual slip of a pet name only accented his words and you were absolutely certain now. Oh yeah. You were truly looking forward to getting to know your soulmate.

Even if he was 95 years old.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm incorrigible, seriously. Thanks for reading? :))


	3. Masquerade

An average American had sex on the third date; taking the big step in a relationship, as your friend helpfully remarked when you told her about the upcoming event. Needless to say, Steven Grant Rogers was not an average American. He was Captain America, i.e. an Avenger, technically was 95 years old (soon turning 96) and was not used to the pace of 21st century relationship.

To be honest, you didn’t mind a bit; there was no physical pressure on your relationship. Sure, the man was such a fine specimen, it should be illegal and you would _love_ to climb him like a tree, _but_ it was a nice change of pace. You never really liked the whole third date thing. When you felt like it should happen, it should happen, right? That was how you saw it, so you were alright with Steve being a bit old-fashioned when it came to physical stuff.

Of course, he was also your soulmate. While with other guys you didn’t feel the need to rush, with Steve, you somehow felt a need _not_ to rush. Maybe you were overthinking his sensibilities, maybe not. The bottom-line was: you took it slow.

So, with the fact that a kiss on a cheek – from you to him – happened on your second date (if the diner counted as the first) given, you truly didn’t expect him to… push you into anything even resembling a second base. Hell, you weren’t sure you were on the first.

Average American had sex on the third date. You, having your third date with Steve Rogers, were about to take a different important step; to meet his friends. On a party. Steve’s (supposedly secret) birthday party. Oh boy. To say you were intimidated by the idea of meeting the Avengers would be an understatement.

And Steve wasn’t helping.

“They are… perhaps a bit much, but… they are the only true friends I have. I want you to meet my friends. I’d like to introduce you,” he stated while you walked side by side in a park at the end of your date number two.

Your hands had been brushing his and vice versa for several minutes now and you couldn’t handle it, simply interlacing your fingers with his. He gave you a sweet smile when you did so, signalling he was more than okay with it, drawing a circle on the back of your hand.

“But… what if they won’t, uhm, approve of me?” you asked, your insides uncomfortably clenched.

He stopped in his tracks, forcing you to do the same. His free hand slowly rose to your arm, gently squeezing.

“They will. And if they don’t… they will with time. You’re my soulmate. I think we have the most important approval in our pocket already.”

The smile he gave you was soft yet blinding, making your heart grow. You had only met the second time and you already seemed to know each other for months, responding maybe hesitantly, but instinctively the right way as if something between you was reaching out, guiding one another. It was wonderful. A bit scary, but immensely wonderful.

You were gazing into his eyes, swearing you could see galaxies. You quickly learned to love the little green in his irises, staining the sky blue, somehow making it… better. Your mouth acted on its own.

“Okay. I’ll… okay.” Did you just agree?! “What the occasion will be?”

He cleared his throat, lowering his gaze. “My birthday.”

“What?!”

“And before you think of going crazy about a gift for me-“ he stopped your train of thought before it started – how did he know? “-when you show up, it will be the greatest gift.”

 _Sappy_ , whispered a small voice in your head.

 _You love it,_ sing-sang your heart, melting.

“You’re serious, aren’t you?” you murmured and he flashed you a smile.

“Very.”

“Fine. But remember, you asked me not to give you anything…”

“Noted.”

You bit your lip as you stared at him, your heart about as fast as your mind. The way he was looking at you… was it possible to look at someone you barely just met this way? If you didn’t think you must have appeared the same when looking at him, you would call bullshit. But here you were.

Before you could change your mind, you listened to the instinct coming from god knew where; you got on your toes, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek.

You retreated slowly, watching his reaction, rewarded by his gaze full of wonder and happy sparks.

“Early birthday present?” he muttered, his eyes falling on your lips for a split second. You licked your lips unwittingly, watching his eyes quickly turn away, his Adam’s apple jumping. Not a perfect gentleman then. Good.

“If the shoe fits… it’s just—it felt right. Was it weird? It was-“

“-perfect,” he finished, tightening the grip on your fingers interlaced with his.

You smiled automatically at his sincere expression.

“ ’kay.”

“Now let’s get you home so you can get your sleep. Can’t keep you awake with a work day in sight…”

“That’s really thoughtful, you know,” you said, meaning every word. “You are.”

“Which is why I think the party would be a good occasion. You can always hide in a crowd if it comes to the worst and Tony’s too annoying.”

You chuckled and started walking again, joy filling every ounce of your being as his thumb caressed the back of your hand once more.

-.-.-

A package was waiting for you at your apartment that evening, containing a mask, because apparently, it was a masquerade ball. You were glad Steve had got you a mask fitting with your dress; when he had asked a colour, you had assumed he had wanted to get a matching tie. This was much worse. And much better.

A taxi picked you up. And Black Widow waited for you at the lobby of the famous skyscraper, apologizing for Steve who was busy at the moment, the birthday boy he was, and she casually slipped in that she might have searched some database, found you via your ‘first words’ and sent Steve your way without him being aware.

You were shocked, but realized she had done… what she had been supposed to do.

“Oh… o-okay. Thanks, I guess…”

“You’re not upset?” she asked on the way up in the elevator, clearly surprised.

You shrugged. “Well, I already had the words on my skin, right? This was the way it was meant to happen then.”

The not so intimidating spy hummed thoughtfully, putting on her mask. Also, she looked absolutely gorgeous and you had no idea why Steve would ever look your way. Besides his soulmark. You were a lucky, _lucky_ bitch, just like Ryan had said.

You followed Natasha’s suit, hiding your face as well. You actually felt better, shielded from awaiting prying eyes at least partly.

Natasha had smuggled you in with no trouble (because you weren’t an official guest, Steve’s idea so you had a bit of privacy, you loved him for it) and here you were, a second glass of champagne in your hand as you watched Steve leave the little podium after he thanked everyone for coming.

The good news was that no had spotted you or tried to make conversation with you.

The bad news was that it included Steve who seemed too busy with anyone else; not for the lack of trying to escape it seemed though.

You toyed with the idea of approaching him too, but you were too much of a chicken. When Hawkeye was talking to him for instance, you wouldn’t have come to interrupt them. However, you caught Steve scanning the room few times; you wondered if he noticed you… could he though, in the mask? You felt invisible, both in a good and a bad way. Maybe you should just-

“What a lady like yourself doing here, drinking alone?” a voice startled you on your left, nearly making you drop the half-empty (or half-full) glass. Your hand flied to your chest as if holding your suddenly thundering heart in.

“Jesus… you startled me… Mr.Stark,” you added in horror when recognizing him as one of the masked people on the podium earlier.

“Hm… looks like your conscience isn’t clean then, when you’re scared so easily. Why is that?” he pried and you gulped nervously.

Oh god, this meeting was already going even worse than you had imagined.

“I don’t know about that… are you enjoying the party?” you attempted a small talk, hoping he would leave you alone until Steve somehow found his way to you.

He scoffed. “It’s a party. So, always. Plus, my place. Party organized by me. I’m enjoying it plenty. You?”

Your throat closed up. "Not really my scene, Mr.Stark."

"That's interesting. Because I can't recall inviting anyone whose scene this wasn't. I didn’t catch your name, miss…?"

Ha. Inviting you. Sure. And your name? Of course.

_Shit._

"Isn't this S- Captain Rogers' party? I would think he was the one inviting people…" you couldn't help but snark, remembering Steve's uncomfortable expression when he had talked about the upcoming event. The thought behind the masks surprised you though – it was surprisingly fitting to Steve's personality. The masks were to remain anonymous, because all of the guest could be heroes in their own way.

"I threw it for him! And you're quite sassy. Who the hell-"

You were saved by Natasha Romanoff in all her glory, her hand delicately placed on Stark’s forearm as he gestured at you.

"Tony? We have a little trouble with the birthday surprise," she informed him swiftly and you barely hid the sigh of relief. You were starting to adore that woman.

"But-" he protested, his head turning from you to her and back and to her and back to you, as if he couldn’t decide what was more pending.

_Oh please, let it be the surprise._

"They need you, right now."

" _Fine_. Keep an eye on her. I'm not done talking to her," he threw over his shoulder and the spy rolled her eyes as he blended in the crowd.

"...thank you, Ms.Romanoff."

"Natasha," she reminded you, lopsided smile on her face.

"Sorry. _Natasha_."

"Don't worry about it. Go some have fun," she beckoned to the dance floor and then to the bar as if you should choose whatever you preferred. You would prefer Steve, to be honest, anywhere.

"Yeah, like I said to Mr.Stark; not really my scene."

She grinned when you shifted uncomfortably. "Then I guess it's good that your knight in shining armour is approaching."

"What?" You whipped around to follow her line of sight, not seeing anyone, and when you spun back to her, she was gone. "That wasn't freaky at all…"

You shook your head, sipping on your drink again.

"Are you enjoying the evening, madam?"

A smile spread your lips at instant and you faced him, relieved. It was like everything was about to be alright all of sudden. You even accepted the fact he approached you as if you were a stranger, playing along.

"Captain Rogers, good evening."

"What gave me away?"

You chuckled, many possible responses flying through your mind.

_Your voice tingling my spine. Your broad shoulders and arms which I want to hold me down. Your ridiculously pretty eyes. Your lips…_

"You're hard to miss, Captain."

An almost patronizing smile graced his lips. "Please, call me Steve."

You bit your lip, not even having to pretend nervousness. God, he looked amazing. The perfectly fitting suit, the bowtie, the mask… he looked like a Disney prince. You didn’t mind imagining you were in a fairy tale; it simply felt like being in one.

 _"Steve,"_ you repeated obediently, maintaining your role. "Isn't it a better question if you are? Enjoying the evening, I mean? It is your night after all."

"I do _now_ ," he emphasized, his eyes wandering all over you, settling on your partly hidden face. The mask was barely covering your upper face, leaving the better part of your cheeks and lips free. Still, it gave you the feeling of being hidden enough; nevertheless, in front of him, you felt naked, as if he saw right through. For some reason, it wasn’t scaring you so far.

"Oh? Why is that?"

"I found what I was looking for."

"Is... is that so? And…" you swallowed thickly under his intense eyes. "And just what were you looking for?"

You expected him to simply say ‘you’, but he managed to take your breath away, making you to break your character in a fraction of second.

"The most beautiful and enchanting woman in this room, naturally."

His irises twinkled with mischief as he was clearly enjoying making you nearly squirm, but his pleasant voice held a serious note, not leaving a doubt that he meant every word.

"Christ, Steve, make me blush like a schoolgirl, why don't you… but thanks, I guess. Though you should probably have your eyesight checked."

"My vision is 20/20, madam, maybe better." He smiled warmly, reaching out a hand. "May I have this dance?"

You couldn’t say you weren’t taken aback. Mostly because… well.

"I'm not great at dancing," you admitted sheepishly, but accepted his hand in order to shorten the distance between you. You stood nearly chest to chest now, the feeling intoxicating. Despite fearing you would make a fool of yourself, you got chills from the proximity, pleasant ones.

"Just another prove of being perfect for me then. I'm not great either."

"So why did you ask?" you chuckled, relieved you at least wouldn’t be alone in this. He tugged at your hand, pulling you even closer.

"Wouldn't forgive myself if I haven't tried to ask the prettiest dame of the evening and win a… uh, _resemblance_ of a dance. Please?"

What you could see from his handsome face was pleading you. Who were you to deny him? Especially with how he was just dropping compliments like that effortlessly? You could turn into a puddle of jello and you wouldn’t notice.

"You're too sweet, you know that?" you whispered and his smile widened when leading you onto the dance floor.

"I'm trying."

-.-.-

Tony smelled something fishy. Everything was alright with the surprise fireworks. Romanoff was pulling his leg. Why?

He soon found out or he believed so.

"...is that Capsicle dancing?" he blurted out when he spotted the broad shoulders (never admit that out loud, he reminded himself) with a hand on it.

"Hm?" The sneaky spy smiled absently, following Tony’s line of sight. She sounded unimpressed then. "Oh. Looks like it."

"Whom he would be dancing with- Romanoff! I told you to keep an eye on her!" he yelped when he recognized the dress… and the woman wearing them. Well, _didn’t_ recognize; that was the problem really. Who the hell was she and how had she got in? This place was a Fort Knox, especially tonight. Invited guests only.

"I guess someone else _has an eye on her."_

"What's up?" Clint hummed as he spotted Tony’s indignation.

"He's- he's-!" he gestured towards the supersoldier, unable to form words.

What was happening here? Why was Romanoff so chill? They had an intruder! She might not look like it, but she was a part of the security tonight!

"Rogers' dancing. Stark's having a stroke," she explained, indifferent.

"Who's having a stroke?" Bruce joined them with a beer in his hand. Tony threw his hands in the air.

"Stark," Nat replied, Clint too busy watching Cap swaying calmly in the rhythm; more or less.

"No one’s having a stroke!" Tony hissed. "This isn't fu-"

"Is that Steve dancing? Who's the woman?" Bruce seemed intrigued, exchanging a glance with Clint.

"She's very beautiful. The captain chose his dance partner well,” Thor hummed behind Tony's back all of sudden, making the billionaire jump in fright. Natasha snickered. Tony pointed an accusing finger at her.

"Stop that! It's your fault! You were supposed to watch her, because I sure as hell haven't invited her."

"She wasn't invited?" Clint finally sounded alarmed and Tony shot him a grateful look. Someone cared!

"Relax, Stark. It _is_ my fault, I was the one to smuggle her in."

“What?!” he cried out, causing few people around them to raise their eyebrows. Natasha rolled her eyes at them.

"Really? Is she a friend of yours? From… business?" Bruce pried carefully and Natasha snorted.

"Barely. But you'll meet her, don't worry."

"She is not posing a threat then?" Thor summed up _nothing,_ his briefly tensed shoulders relaxing.

That was it?!

"Sure isn't," Natasha uttered, the corner of her lips twitching. God, Tony hated Russian spies and their secrets.

"Then I might ask her for a dance!” Thor exclaimed, his grin wide. “She is exceptionally beautiful lady indeed."

"Careful not to step on someone's toes!" Natasha called after him and he made his way to the dancing pair.

"I'm gonna ask her right after him!" Tony declared immediately, disappearing into the crowd and Natasha smirked. She knew you were nervous about meeting them and this was actually rather good way. She just hoped Tony wouldn't annoy the hell out of you.

"And by _someone_ you mean Steve?" Bruce guessed, which earned Natasha a challenging eyebrow from Clint.

"Maybe."

"Did you push her towards Steve or did you sneak her in here, because he asked you to?" Clint asked the right question like always.

She smiled at him playfully. "I'll tell you later. Stop being so nosy, Barton."

"Not fair…" He huffed and went to the bar for a refill, no doubt being determined to see how it would all play out. Natasha chuckled.

"Would you… like to dance?" Bruce asked all of sudden, making her lose her humour, only a brief smile remaining. Sweet.

"Sure, why not..."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Steve's voice as he's taking a chair to give me a lecture* So, your fic got a bit longer than expected. Again…. 
> 
> Oops? I need a lot of fluffy Steve, amazing Natasha and exasperated Tony to deal O:-)


	4. The right (dance) partner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one’s long, but I didn’t wanna break it. Enjoy. Lots of fluff. A bit of fun maybe.

Your dance technique was far from perfect; dancing with Steve was everything though. He held you securely, one of his arms around your waist, his other hand holding yours, his body not pressed against you completely, but close enough, his eyes attentively glued to you as if no one else existed.

You felt special. You felt beautiful. You felt adored. And all of that thanks to him.

You wouldn’t have even noticed another song ended if it wasn’t for the large figure tapping on Steve’s shoulder. He turned his head, surprised. You, on the other hand, gulped in fright. The man was huge. You had a good guess who that was. Trouble?

“Captain. May I borrow your dance partner?”

_Oh, **definitely** trouble._

Steve gaped a bit, exchanging a puzzled look with you. He was asking whether you would allow it, you realized.

You had no clue. Then again, what was the worst thing that could happen? It could be awkward, sure, but you would try your best not to make an ass of yourself. Unlike with Mr.Stark. _Let’s never talk about that again._

You nodded inconspicuously and Steve sighed.

“All yours,” he whispered, sounding like he didn’t want to give you up at all. It warmed you up, especially in your belly. He wanted you with him. He didn’t want to give you away. God bless him.

He shuffled away, catching your gaze one more time to make you were okay without him. Well, you were _okay_ , but would be better _with_ him.

“My lady. I am Thor Odinson of Asgard. It would be my pleasure to have this dance. May I?”

His voice was thundering as if he was a God of Thunder himself indeed, but you could tell he was trying his best not to intimidate you. Well, you could appreciate the effort, no matter how vain.

You blinked in shock when he placed his palm on his chest and gave you a tiny bow. Holy shit, Asgard – a planet, as you had learned from Steve – grew their men with extraordinary manners. Huh.

You shyly revealed you name, earning a smile from the god and a light kiss on the back of your hand; it reminded you of the second (or was it first and halfth?) meeting with Steve. Your heart skipped a beat at the memory and you realized that no matter how charming this man seemed, your heart already belonged to someone else; not that you had ever gave consent, it just… happened.

Steve had broad shoulders of which you thought could carry the weight of the world (and you had a hunch that sometimes they did), but as Thor enveloped you for a dance, you had to admit that _his_ shoulders were as if they belonged to Atlas himself. He was so freaking huge.

“Lady mine, tell me. Do you like the feast brother Anthony prepared?”

Who the _heck_ talked like that? Steve sometimes slipped, sounding like from an old movie, sometimes revealing Brooklyn slang from his time, but man, this was something else.

“I… yes. He… certainly put a lot of care into it,” you babbled , automatically adjusting to his speech.

“Lady Potts is a great help for him in feats like these. I must say _our_ celebrations are rather different, but I am impressed nevertheless.”

“Oh. What do your celebrations look like?” you heard yourself asking, actually intrigued.

A laugh bubbled in his throat as he spun you. “You would consider them too savage, I believe.”

You had no idea how to react to that. So you just hummed indecisively.

“I am certain someone has told you tonight, but you look very beautiful.”

You started at him, nearly faltering in your steps that weren’t even proper steps. Did he just… did he compliment you? An Asgardian? A demigod? Holy shit. Ryan was going to freak out about as much as you were freaking out at the moment.

“T-thank you,” you stuttered, too taken aback to sound like a normal person.

“You’re very welcome, my lady.”

The rest of the dance – rather short, thankfully – was more or less silent. You had to admit you enjoyed meeting Thor and dancing with him, but there was still the fact he was… a demigod apparently and that left you a bit uneasy. You mentally sighed in relief when the song ended.

Which was a mistake. Because Tony Stark took Thor’s place.

Shit.

You genuinely considered saying no when he asked for a dance; except Thor basically shoved you into Stark’s arms with a grin and a nod and you couldn’t quite back away. Well. You had handled your latest dentist’s appointment. Couldn’t be worse than pulling your teeth of wisdom, right?

"So… you have eyes on Cap?" was his first attempt at conversation and you realized you counted your chicken before they hatched. You groaned internally.

And then, your sassy side came to life as if challenged. You didn’t fight it and held your head high, swallowing your nervousness.

"No, Mr.Stark. I have my eyes focused on my dance partner, which happens to be you at the moment."

You would swear his eyebrows rose and you couldn’t even see it over his mask.

"You're cheeky for a chick I could get kicked out for not being invited," he noted, tilting his head to side as he was probably trying to figure you out.

You felt naked and it was not a pleasant feeling like when Steve was looking at you. Nope, sir.

"I might not be on the list, but I was invited," you opposed, ignoring the knot twisting in your stomach slowly.

_Get it together, woman! You deal with people coming to your office every day! You met worse._

"By Romanoff," he stated and you couldn’t hide your smirk, finding you might actually indulge in the game of a mysterious woman.

"You could say that."

"She said you weren't a spy, but now I'm doubting it. You have a great ability not to spill beans. One might call you sneaky. Maybe you're a politician," he joked, eyes still calculating.

"Or a Stark from what I heard," you shot back, horror striking you right after. _Shit. Too much._ "Sorry, that was out of line."

But the billionaire only scoffed, spinning you. Was that an attempt on a smile on his face? "You're trouble, miss ‘Romanoff Got Me In.’"

"So I've heard."

"What do you do for living?" he continued his interrogation and an exclamation sign lighted up in your head in warning.

"I tell you and you'll know who I am immediately. I know how much tech and databases you have."

You had an idea at least. After all, if Natasha wasn’t lying, she had found you and identified you as Steve’s soulmate thanks to one of those.

"Huh. You're smart," he… complimented you, you guessed, and you mentally yayed. Better than nothing.

"Not smart enough, given the fact that I let S- _someone_ to convince me to come here." _And meet you._

He quirked up. "So there's someone else involved."

"Maybe."

"Can't be Rogers.” You nearly broke your cover right then. He sounded so sure it made you want to laugh. “Too much of a boy scout. So who-"

"The boy scout would like his dance partner back,” sounded behind you and your lips automatically curled up in a smile.

"Hush, I want one more. It's not like you marked her to show off she belongs to you or something," Stark challenged, his arm tightening his grip.

Oh-oh. You couldn’t see Steve, but you had a hunch he was not going to share with Stark anymore, provoked by both his attitude and words. The question was, how would he convince him to let you go? You had an idea, but…

"Actually, I did."

You spun to stare at Steve, shocked that he actually said it so openly. That you didn’t see coming.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Stark demanded, his gaze flickering between the two of you.

Well. You might as well adjust to Steve’s play. Hell, you had already been playing a bit. You pushed the wide strap of your dress aside to reveal Steve's neat handwriting, his first words to you on your skin.

Stark immediately went to examine it – you couldn't help but quickly cover it before he could actually read it. Steve’s hand appeared on your lower back, slightly turning you over to him with the lightest of pressure. Stark seemed too shocked to fight him.

"Now if you excuse us. They're playing our song."

“Thank you for the dance, Mr.Stark,” you smiled over your shoulder before fully facing Steve, delighted to see him.

“Sure, whatever…”

Another slow song started and you were pulled into the only arms you wanted to be in tonight.

“Thanks for the save,” you said, honestly grateful.

“Didn’t look like you needed one,” he stated, sounding slightly astounded.

“…sorry. Did I… was I rude? I was rude, wasn’t I? Oh god-“

He leaned in with a smile, his lips catching your hair. Well that was _new_. A very pleasant new. You closed your eyes at the tender sensation.

“Tony needs someone to play verbal ping-pong with him. You held your ground perfectly. I’m proud of you, to be honest.”

You looked up, surprised. “…really?”

“Yes. Even Natasha seemed to be amused when I told her some of your comebacks.”

Your cheeks burned with that announcement. He heard? All of it? And interpreted it to Romanoff? “I thought your hearing was just a little better than average.”

“Just enough to hear you,” he soothed you, his hand on your waist softly caressing. “You met the most handful ones. Bruce is going to be alright and Clint… well, Natasha will make him behave. You did it, you met my friends. And you handled it just fine. You’re wonderful.”

Steve seemed so genuinely amazed again, as if you were the most wondrous person he had ever met. You curled closer to him, testing the waters. “I admit I was a bit intimidated… okay, _a lot.”_

“Really? Didn’t look like it at all.”

“Must have been the champagne I had,” you admitted with a self-depreciating chuckle. “Liquid courage and all that…. What?”

“I think you have enough courage even without having a drink. The more I know about you… the more you amaze me.”

“Steve…”

His thumb hesitantly stroked the exposed skin of your cheek, the touch turning firmer yet still soft when your lips parted and your breath hitched. He was so careful with physical affection, small steps like this always taking you by surprise. But a very pleasant surprise – with how gently he treated you, you felt… precious. It was an indescribable feeling, filling you with euphoria, your heart bursting with joy. You wished to let Steve know how much you appreciated him already, but any time you tried, he just took your breath away with something even… more, making any attempt of yours look pale in comparison.

His blue eyes bored into yours, holding your gaze as if the spacious room full of people didn’t exist. His thumb moved painfully slowly to your lower lip, causing you to gasp.

“I’d really like to kiss you right now. You’d mind?”

You couldn’t breathe. You died. You were sure of it. His fingertip was still on your lips, sending jolts of electricity down your spine and all you wanted was him to replace it with his mouth. You nearly screamed the obvious answer to his question.

“No,” you whispered instead, unable to expand your chest with air, aching with anticipation. “Wouldn’t mind at all, Steve.”

He leaned in with one quick movement as if he was afraid you’d change your mind. _Yeah, nope_. Still, he hesitated an inch from your lips, giving you the last chance to retreat. Once again, _nope._

You swallowed awkwardly loudly, licked your lips and met his before he could back out, which was a real concern, because so far you had barely made it to you kissing his cheek.

His hand was still on you, cradling your jaw tenderly, his warm lips once again reluctant on yours, the lightest of touches. You closed your eyes, indulging the feeling. You didn’t see stars, but you could _feel_ them in your veins when he added a little pressure, dancing with your lips in synch. You sneaked one of your hands to his chest, feeling his rapidly beating heart under your palm. Yours wasn’t any slower, but had no care in the world. Only the fact that he was reacting to _you_ this way mattered and that his lips were still on yours, his fingers curling around your nape. Your own clutched his suit jacket in response, returning you to reality at the same time.

Suit jacket. Party. _People_.

You parted from his mouth, fighting for some air, but didn’t let more than few inches between you. You were glad you were in his arms, because your legs got a bit wobbly and how the hell was he affecting you this much?

“Sorry,” Steve rasped, voice husky. “I got a bit… carried away.”

You shook your head, still out of breath, hungrily drinking in his scent as your forehead rested against his chest carefully for a second to regain your composure. Only then you retreated and opened your eyes.

“You can get carried away more often.”

When you looked up, you could see the corners of his mouth raised inconspicuously. His fingers trailed down, back to your waist.

“Deal. But not where all of my friends can see.”

Your belly caught fire at that premise and you quickly pecked his lips once more to seal the deal.

-.-.-

“Did Rogers just make out on the dance floor?” Clint blurred out, exasperated. “You owe me an explanation, Tasha!”

“They’re soulmates,” Tony hummed, appearing out of nowhere, sounding smug. Natasha raised a challenging eyebrow. "You knew that too?!"

"I _found_ her. Cool software you developed, by the way."

“I’m sorry, did you use my software to find Spangles’ soulmate? How?”

“Not my place to say,” she shrugged casually, but gave everyone around her – Clint, Bruce and Tony – a pointed look hinting them to leave it alone.

“He looks happy,” Bruce noted instead then, earning a smile from the redhead.

“He is. She’s good for him.”

“You know way too much, Romanoff. So, are we meeting her, the whole team together or what?” Tony whined, glancing the direction of the lovebirds as if he wanted to march to them and demand a proper introduction right now.

Natasha rolled her eyes. “The afterparty in our small circle. The sooner you end this monstrosity, the sooner you get to meet her officially.”

“Let’s end it right now then,” Tony decided, already making his way to the podium and Clint snorted at his behaviour.

“He hates you knew this before him. I’m surprised you didn’t tell _me,_ though…”

“It’s new, Clint. And they deserve a little privacy,” she explained easily, which drew a resigned sigh from the archer – an involuntary agreement.

They were interrupted by Tony taking the microphone. “Alright, kids, time to wrap it up. Old man has other duties tonight too. Enjoy the fireworks, they start in a minute. Goodnight.”

“He’s such a man-child,” Natasha commented, rolling her eyes good-naturedly.

“Ah, come on, Tasha. Didn’t you hear all men are children? Let’s see the fireworks…”

Clint was already gone when she turned to follow him.

-.-.-

If you were being honest, you did notice Steve watching you instead of the fireworks, just like you didn’t miss the tension in his shoulders at the loud bangs of explosions; he looked as if he was expecting an attack.

You, on the other hand, didn’t expect one and it came.

One moment you felt his eyes on you and the next, Steve was kissing the living daylights of you, stealing your breath. You had no idea how long it took for the two of you to part.  You spent the rest of the ‘ _surprise’_ dizzy, in a strange and very pleasant haze, leaning onto his side. Maybe you were getting too cuddly, the alcohol you had playing a role, but he didn’t seem to mind, his arm wrapped around your waist to keep you just where you had nestled. And to be fair, _he_ had started it, alright.

You were beaming and had no care in the world if you looked like an idiot.

The guests left the party rather quickly after the fireworks, Stark’s earlier words effective. You stood with Steve on the balcony until the room cleared, moving inside when it was only the Avengers remaining. They took off their masks (as if those had been ever working and actually disguised their identity), settling on couches standing in circle in the upper part of the room.

Steve took your hand then, smiling encouragingly, and led you to the lion’s den. You weren’t _that_ afraid, to be honest. You had met most of the team anyway.

“Thanks for the party, Tony. And the fireworks,” Steve nodded to his friend and the billionaire just waved it off.

“We all know it’s mostly Pepper who always executes my brilliant ideas,” he stated, oh so humble.

“I’m sure you can take a lot of credit, Mr.Stark. It was stunning, especially the end,” you added, hoping you didn’t sound as shaky as you got all of sudden.

Mr.Stark squinted, watching Steve half-amused, half-exasperated. “Well, I’d say the birthday boy seemed to find other things quite stunning during the fireworks, don’t you think?”

You felt the heat colour your skin at the idea of him watching you two kissing. You didn’t mind a little public displays of affection, but it was still new territory for you and Steve. He seemed embarrassed too.

“Ignore him, he’s being a dick. Let’s introduce officially so he can stop pretending to be offended,” Natasha hummed and you smiled at her gratefully.

"Good plan. Now mask off, Sassy Queen."

"Watch it, Stark," Steve hissed at your side, stripping his mask. It calmed you, seeing his protective side. You instantly knew that he hadn’t been lying when saying that it wouldn’t truly matter if the Avengers didn’t warm up to you immediately – he would stay with you either way.

“Fair warning, I had this on my face the whole evening and I might look like a cartoon monster…”

Doctor Banner snorted at that, causing Mr.Barton to chuckle and you realized your mistake, quickly putting the mask away.

“You look just fine,” Steve assured you, smiling at you radiantly.

You took a deep breath, scanning the company. These were Steve’s friends. And the Earth’s mightiest heroes. _No pressure._ You cleared your throat, revealing your name and then took time to shake hands with each of the member of the team.

"Mr. Barton-“

“Clint. Nice to meet you,” he said evenly, his grip firm but kind. He seemed genuinely pleased to meet you.

“Doctor Banner. Uhm, sorry about the inappropriate remark earlier-”

“It’s Bruce. Don’t worry about it.”

You gave him a tight smile. “Thank you. Uhm, Mr. Stark…”

“Oh no. I’m not gonna tell you to call me Tony. You were pushing it. And you stole Capsicle’s virtue-“

“Oh please, Tony. You loved her sassy mouth. Now tune it down, we don’t want to scare Cap’s girl away,” _Clint_ scolded him, winking at you right after. You grinned at him.

“Ouch. Betrayal. Fine, I’m Tony. Not too bad to meet you. Also, looks like someone else likes your _sassy_ mouth.”

“Tony…” Steve sighed, giving him a disappointed look and you rather moved on, nodding at Natasha.

_“Natasha.”_

“Glad you got it right,” she smirked, leaving you to the last team member. The alien one.

Suddenly, you didn’t know what to do with your hands. A handshake seemed a bit inappropriate. So, intelligently, you did something that resembled an awkward curtsey. “Thor."

The king of Asgard looked impressed and you could feel Steve’s eyes on you, shining; they narrowed when Thor took your hand and kissed your knuckles for the second time that evening.

"Watch it, Thor, you might get punched if you're not careful," Tony snarked, but the god just laughed.

"Oh no. I have no intention to come between brother Steven and his lady, no matter how enchanting she is. It was not visible in the crowd, but I can see the brightness of their soul bond now."

Your hand fell slackly to your side when he said the words, your whole body frozen with shock.

"Soul bond?" Steve questioned softly, moving closer to your side, arm sneaking around your waist possessively.

"I can see with more than my eyes,” he informed you. “And yours and Steven's souls are truly gravitating when near each other. Do not be alarmed at such occurrence. It is a good sign, mark of a strong and healthy binding."

"No pressure," Clint uttered, while Tony murmured “Kinky,” making you blush furiously and Natasha roll her eyes.

“Alright, stop torturing the poor lovebirds,” she came to your rescue then. “Why don’t you tell us a bit about yourself?”

“I’m game,” Clint exclaimed, falling onto a couch. “Please, tell us. Don’t make us aim a bed lamp to your face…”

You giggled at his easy tone, obediently taking a seat, nestling next to Steve.

Soon, the talk moved onto different topics as well, the others actually joining the conversation, putting you at ease. Too much of an ease; after such a long evening, your eyelids started to close on their own and every time you blinked them open, it was harder to keep them that way.

“Hey, Cap, I think you’re gonna have a girl in for a sleepover,” someone pointed out with hushed voice, which caused you to jolt awake.

Mild laugh erupted around the room.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, tongue heavy, and you climbed to your feet. You could feel Steve’s hands hovering over you as you swayed. Damn your sleepy balance. “I’ll go.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You can have my bed. And if you don’t want to, there is a spare room _somewhere,_ right, Tony?” Steve more stated than asked, sending your heart racing. His bed?

“Well, I’m kinda tempted to say no and see where it goes if she sleeps in yours…”

Your head snapped to him in perfect sync with Steve’s.

“Tony!”

You bit your cheek, unsure what to think of the horror in Steve’s voice. “’s fine. I’ll call a cab.”

“No, you won’t,” Steve protested softly. “You okay with my bed?”

“Haven’t seen your bed…” you pointed out, words slurring a bit. “ ’Zit comfy?”

“Aww…”

“Alright, let’s go,” Steve swept you off your feet right into his arms, a startled yelp erupting from your chest, your hands immediately clutching his shoulders. Where had he lost the jacket? The shirt was freaking hot and the seams on it seemed to cry around his arms. It was nice. Really, really nice.

“Thanks, doll, but let’s agree you tell me later,” he pleaded lowly and given the fact everyone laughed, you were sure you said at least some of the praises out loud. Oh.

“ ‘kay. Night, guys…”

“Goodnight. Hey, I hope you’re staying for tomorrow’s game afternoon and movie night!” Clint cried after you, making you squint as your mind tried to remember. Had they talked about that earlier? You couldn’t recall.

“Uh-huh…” you hummed indecisively, burying your head in the crook of Steve’s neck as he carried you away. Jeez, he didn’t look bothered by your weight at all. What a neat trick. However, you could feel his muscles shifting with each step, clenching deliciously. “You’re strong.”

“Yeah, that was the point of the serum,” he whispered to you hair and as you giggled at his joke, your sense of balance was messed up when the both of you suddenly went down. When did you get into an elevator?

“Good job then…”

The rest of the journey was silent and before you knew it, you were being gently lowered to soft cushions. They felt like heaven, fluffy foam of clouds, but you liked Steve’s warm embrace better. You liked Steve better, period.

A kiss landed on your forehead with a silent chuckle. “I like you too.”

You were suddenly warm all over. Steve liked you too. Yay! He was the sweetest and the best and he liked you! You were suddenly so sure he would like the humble gift you had got him and was still sitting in your nightstand. You should have brought it with you, but you were such a chicken about his reaction in front of everyone… now it seemed silly. Steve wouldn’t be anything but thankful for you thinking about him…

“That I would, even when I told you _not to_ buy me anything. Get some sleep, doll. I’ll be right here on the couch if you need me, okay?” he coaxed, brushing your hair from your face.

Did you… say that out loud? And did he mention staying right here? Until _morning_?

_Yeah, dummy, that’s the purpose of a sleepover. You know that._

 You groaned as you sobered up a bit. “I should change and remove my make-up. Promise not to scream when you see me. You have a spare toothbrush?”

“I do.”

Steve lent you a pair of shorts and a t-shirt instead of a pyjama too and soon you were tucked in the covers, facing the bathroom door, waiting for him to emerge. You were painfully sleepy, but you had to resist for a while longer.

Surprise was written all over his face when he found you still awake. Also, he had no shirt. Your first thought when seeing his ridiculously perfect abs and bare arms in their whole glory was ‘ _god bless America’._ The second was _never mind, even the better._

“Hey, is something wrong?” he worried and you nodded solemnly. “What is it?”

“The bed’s too big,” you whispered, making him frown in confusion.

“Don’t know what to do about that…”

You rolled your eyes, moving to make space for him on the side closer to his perfectly baffled form. “Use your imagination, Rogers.”

His mouth formed a small ‘o’, no sound coming out.

“Please? You’re warm. And I want to cuddle. Pleeease?” you whined, not caring you probably sounded like a needy bitch.

You weren’t lying. Sure, Steve wore a pair of pyjama pants and nothing to cover his torso, which, _yummy_ , but you honesty meant no funny business. You just wanted to sleep with your sweet soulmate in reach. That was all. For now.

“You sure?”

“Very. Come here, Steve. I’ll be a gentleman, promise,” you swore with a tired smile, breaking into a content grin when he slipped into the covers with hushed laughter. “Thank you. And thanks for tonight. Was nice.”

“Yeah,” he breathed weakly, his hand finding yours.

You melted at the gesture, but you needed more. Eyes on his face to observe his reaction, you scooted closer, carefully laying your head on his chest.

God, you could die a happy woman when his arm wrapped around you. When he kissed your hair and whispered a goodnight, you contentedly closed your eyes and drifted to sleep in no time.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I ever feel like it, I might add one more chapter. (I do have a scene of Tony asking reader about Fuck-Marry-Kill with the Avengers sans Steve and her starting with “Fuck you, Tony, for such a stupid question” in my head, but other than that it would need a lot more work.)
> 
> Anyway, thank you very much for reading and giving kudos, commenting. The response was overwhelming and I’m eternally grateful ♥


	5. An A+ day...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. Much. Fluff. Like send-me-a-bill-for-your-dentist-appointment fluff. Attempt at humour? Steve’s friends being little shits.

You were very comfy and very warm. Maybe even _too_ warm. Also, your covers were moving behind your back and that was a bit odd, but you blamed the sensation on the morning confusion. Your bed smelled nicer than usual too. You nuzzled closer into the moving warmth, content it stilled its movements.

Except that after that, it talked.

“Sorry to wake you,” the comforter whispered hoarsely and it was like a shot of adrenaline to your veins, making you jolt fully awake, sitting up straight, causing your head to pound with the swift movement.

That was Steve’s voice.

Because you were sleeping in Steve’s bed. 

“Are you okay?” he asked lowly, but you couldn’t respond right away. The memories came rushing back to you, messy but warmly fuzzy images of last night.

You had danced with Steve. Steve had kissed you. Steve had kissed you _a lot._  

Your lips unwittingly curled up in a smile despite the abrupt wake-up process. You heard him moving at your side, sitting up as well, so you turned to him, still grinning in perfect contrast to his concerned face.

He looked adorable with his hair sticking in every direction, a bit sleepy expression on his face, and he was also still very much shirtless. You were sure you woke up to heaven.

“Sorry to freak out. It was just… ugh, morning confusion,” you explained, keeping your voice on low level just like he did, worried you might disturb the peace. “Good morning, Steve.”

His face cleared of worried wrinkles and he charmed a smile for you. “Morning, doll. Slept well?”

“Very. You?”

“Yeah.”

You just stared at each other, grinning like fools, eyes sparkling. You must have looked ridiculous, but you didn’t care. Subconsciously, when he released you from the lock of his eyes, your gaze wandered over him, appreciating the lack of clothing. How could person have a body this marvellous? You knew it was probably the effect of the serum, but _gosh._ What a view.

 _Good_ _morning_ indeed.

You noticed a blush spreading down his neck and quickly snapped your gaze back to where it was decent. But hey, when you were offered a view like this, you simply _had to_ make the best of the opportunity!

Steve seemed a bit sheepish, but you couldn’t help but notice that a new glint appeared in his irises, something in the way he was watching you back that gave out that maybe, you weren’t the only person to enjoy the situation at hand. It took you a second to realize why that was – you were wearing his clothes.

You remembered Ryan telling you about what it felt like to him, seeing a girl – _or_ a guy in his case – in his clothes. _Like a flag on a flagpole, mark of ownership on a conquered land,_ he had told you.

No funny business had happened between you and Steve last night, but the thought still made your face hot all over. To cover your embarrassment, you ducked your head to Steve’s shoulder, resting your forehead on it.

Steve tensed at first, but quickly recovered and sank his fingers gently into your hair, very carefully caressing your scalp, wary of pulling at your hair and causing you pain. You hummed in appreciation, instinctively brushing the nearest patch of skin with your lips – an inked patch of skin. You smiled against your will at that. Your words. Your ridiculous first words to him.

His breath caught in his throat at your bold move, but a kiss landed at the top of our head, so you figured you didn’t overstep.

“How much you hate morning breath?” he muttered, sounding a bit embarrassed.

“Not particularly…?” you answered, not sure where that headed.

Looking back, you really should have understood what he was asking. Then again, the pleasant surprise of his fingers gently finding your jaw and tilting your head so he could kiss you right on the lips, warm and soft and sweet, was worth the lack of your brain function. You melted, your palm finding a way to lie flat on his very bare chest, feeling every expansion of his ribcage, his skin burning. He deepened the kiss, his fingers tangling in your hair enough to make you notice and boy, did it do things to you. You sighed into his mouth, content and yet needy for more, a second from climbing into his lap, too fast development be damned.

Just as you were out of breath, he released you, his thumb drawing a soft circle on your cheek. It was cliché, but your fingertips were literally _tingling_ with euphoria and excitement.

“Wow,” you breathed out, still feeling his breath tickling your lips as he had barely moved away. “Can I stay another night? Can I be woken up like this every morning?”

He gave a breathy laugh, making your eyes snap open, and you could see blown black of his pupils, the gleam of wanting more now diluted with giddiness.

“Can’t say I’d complained,” he admitted with a lopsided smile radiant on his kiss-swollen lips.

God, he was so handsome. Had you mentally noted he was handsome before? You still couldn’t believe it.

“That an invitation?”

“I mean, if you convince Tony…”

“Oh god, I take it back,” you groaned, falling back to the sheets dramatically, rewarded with Steve’s light-hearted laugh.

He laid down on his side then, propped on his elbow, watching you with a soft smile. “Thank you for staying.”

You let out what surely was a very unattractive snort. “’Cause not having to go home and not having to hail a cab in the middle of the night was a real sacrifice…”

Steve was fully grinning now, dropping a playful kiss on your nose, which made you giggle.

“I know, my lady. Let me make up for the hardship you had suffered through with making you breakfast.”

“You sound like Thor. Also, offering breakfast to a girl? You are a dangerous man, Steve Rogers,” you stated, the stupid smile simply not disappearing from your face no matter how much you tried to get it under control; so you gave up on that. “You seem to know just the way to my heart.”

“I sure hope so. Are you coming with the adorable bedhead or do you want a minute?”

You gasped at the cheeky comment, grabbing the pillow by his head to smack his stupidly perfect skull.

His laughter filled the room and you felt like the happiest person on Earth.

\---

When Steve led you to the communal kitchen and dining room ten minutes later, you were surprised to find three people already there. Clint was sitting at the bar, his head resting in his palm, a mug of coffee hazardously close in your opinion, just in case he would actually fell asleep; Bruce was sitting nearby, watching over him, while Natasha was standing at the cooker, making…

“Are those pancakes?” you gasped, your stomach instantly reacting to the smell, making you squirm in humiliation. Steve at your side chuckled, while Natasha grinned at you.

“Yep. There’s enough for you too. Unless Steve wants to impress you with his own cooking skills,” she teased and winked at him. He smiled bashfully in return.

“I mean… maybe next time? Since you already started…”

“Oh-ho, so there will be a next time?” Clint wolf-whistled, startling you with both the question and sudden sign of life.

“Let them be… Coffee?” Bruce beckoned to the pot. You bit you lip bashfully. You didn’t want to be rude, but coffee… “Or maybe tea?”

You lighted up. “If it’s not too much trouble…”

“I’ll do it,” Steve hurried before the other man could rise from his seat. He pecked your temple. ”You go sit.”

“Yes, sir…”

Looking around, you weren’t sure where to. Between Bruce and Clint? Next to Clint since Bruce was at the bar stool at the end of the counter?

“You can sit next to Clint. It’s safe. This is his second mug of coffee,” Natasha supplied helpfully and you frowned in confusion. Perhaps an inside joke. “Yes, he is dangerous before he finishes his first.”

“Hey!” the man in question complained, but rolled his eyes for your benefit. “That’s actually accurate. You can sit here, I don’t bite.”

“He’s just a pain in everyone’s ass.”

“Morning to you too, Stark,” Clint saluted him and a mug of tea landed in front of you, soon followed by a stack of pancakes.

“You’re gonna spoil me. Thank you,” you said in earnest.

Natasha waved it off, while Steve let out a simple “ _Planning on it._ ”

“So you didn’t spoil her last night?” the billionaire hummed casually, pouring himself a coffee. Your eyes widened and you rather started eating to avoid answering. Steve only sighed.

Neither of you replied, which earned you some raised eyebrows.

“She seems right at home in his clothes, huh?” Clint added and you shot him a look, mortified. Him too?

“She does, doesn’t she? Sign of a successful night?”

Steve grinded his teeth at Stark’s latest remark, going a bit red in his face. You sipped your tea, figuring out a sassy response.

“Very successful. I slept like a baby. Sleeping duty fulfilled,” you announced and noticed that Bruce’s lips twitched as if he was holding back a smile. You continued. “That will be all, thank you for your questions. For further information, contact our PR department. ….Ouch, we don’t have one, looks like it’s none of your business then. Too bad…”

Tony’s mouth was theatrically hanging open, his hand clutching his chest and Clint’s eyes seemed rounder than a moment before; then again, that could just be because of the amount of caffeine in his system. Natasha chuckled, positioning a plate in front of Steve – his stack of pancakes was visibly taller and you wondered just how much he had to eat.

Speaking of Steve, he was smugly grinning into his mug. “I have nothing to add.”

“Still though. She’s like… _shining_ or something. That’s released endorphins, I can tell. Good job, Cap.”

You internally whined.

_If they keep that up, staying overnight **is** gonna start feeling like a sacrifice._

“Play nice, boys,” Natasha scolded them and you smiled at her gratefully. “Let the poor girl eat. She’s gotta make up for the calories Steve helped her burn…”

“You too?” you burst out simultaneously with Steve and Natasha raised her hands in a harmless gesture.

“I meant when you were dancing. What did _you_ think I was talking about?” she asked innocently and everyone in the room but you two laughed. 

 _“I hate you,”_ Steve mouthed at her and she just winked in return, turning her attention back to her cooking.

You wished for the Earth to swallow you, but you liked the teasing air hovering above the group of friends. You smiled reassuringly at Steve, stroking him arm shortly.

“It’s okay, Steve. I still like you despite your _annoying friends,”_ you emphasized the last words, which was followed by affective _aww_ from Clint, Tony and Natasha.

Steve smiled at you, apologetic and kind. “Thanks, doll. You’re the best.”

To show his appreciation, he kissed your cheek, the innocent gesture drawing a wolf-whistle from Tony.

“Get a room!”

You just rolled your eyes and stole a quick peck from Steve’s lips for a good measure. He tasted like coffee; it seemed you might grow fond of that taste after all.

\---

Despite all the odds, everyone survived breakfast. They teased you once more after you asked about Thor, learning he had left in early morning because of an urgent matter on Asgard. After all, he was son of the King. And an Alien. And a demigod. Apparently, you knew those now. What an insanity your life became in such a short time.

The team went separate ways after the meddling over the most important meal of the day. Steve stayed with you, of course, showing you around the Tower. You marvelled at the view and despite having a tiny bit fear of heights, you agreed to Steve taking you outside at the top.

It was incredible. You found yourselves basically on the top of the world, steps slightly shaky, but with Steve’s firm reassurance. You trusted him not to let you fall. So trying to keep your mind of the potential life-ending fall, you busied your mind with how touchy-feely Steve quickly became after sharing the first kiss yesterday night. You loved it.

When you came to a stop, you were unable to resist the urge to spread your arms and let the gentle wind play with your hair and rather loose clothes; Steve’s hands found their way to your hips to steady you. Slowly, he moved further, his fingers running in a feather-light touch over your arms and threading his fingers with yours.

You giggled and dared to lean onto him with your back, testing the waters. His lips brushed your cheek and you couldn’t but turn your head, catching his mouth with yours in a searing kiss. He was so sweet. You trusted him with your life, knowing he would never allow you to even stumble, and yet you were falling, falling _for_ _him_ so hard. The realization was overwhelming.

How could you be… falling in love so fast?

Steve gently squeezed your fingers, brining your joined hands to your waist and you decided you didn’t care and let the kiss consume you.

When you finally parted, your eyes fluttered open to meet his gaze. You couldn’t stop smiling.

“Put Titanic on your list, huh?” you murmured, your brain turned into a useless mass of lovesick jello.

Laughter was twinkling in Steve’s eyes. “Not really. It’s a perk of the movie nights, we take turns in who’s picking.”

You frowned in confusion. “Who chose Titanic?”

For some reason, Natasha didn’t strike you the type. Clearly, you were right, because Steve chuckled.

“Clint.”

You burst out laughing, Steve soon joining you. You wondered if the whole Manhattan could hear you. Once again, you had no care in the world.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually had to split it in two parts, because it was awfully long. Just enjoy the fluff, the’ attempt at humour’ comes later.
> 
> Also, this fic somehow has 343 kudos…? WHAT is happening?  
> I’m… a bit dumb-struck. At loss of words. Uhm…. thank you? Thank you! For reading, for finding a minute to leave a comment, for leaving kudos. Thank you and may the fluff and cuteness be with you ♥


	6. ...with the A-team

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Attempt at humour and a droplet of angst.

Steve took you to lunch. Natasha had been kind enough to lend you some clothes so you didn’t look like Steve’s trophy; he might have looked a bit disappointed if you were being honest, but you suspected Natasha had chosen the clothes with great care and intention to keep Steve’s eyes on you, because you actually didn’t look half-bad, simple summer dress along with matching shoes more suitable for a walk than the ones you had worn to the party.  

And certainly, Steve didn’t forget to tell you looked beautiful. You felt like a princess; it seemed Steve had been serious when saying he had planned on spoiling you. Not that you were complaining. There was just that little annoying voice in the back of your head, reminding you that all of this was too perfect to be true, that there must have been something hiding behind a corner, waiting to cast a shadow over your happiness.

You learned more about Steve’s life in the past. He appeared to be telling you even slightly embarrassing things. When you called him out on it, teasing, the tips of his ears went pink and he enlightened you. Apparently, he was ninety eight percent sure it would come to Truth or Dare during the game afternoon and he wanted to get things out in private so you weren’t too taken aback.

That you understood, deciding to reciprocate the gesture and surprisingly… it wasn’t awful.

It actually turned out to be an _awfully_ great idea, because Steve wasn’t wrong.

The game afternoon started with highly intellectual Scrabble, interestingly in a version for more players with bigger board, which fascinated you. You weren’t necessarily bad at it, but it was hard to compete with a man who had seven PhD.’s. Still, you had fun.

And then it came. Truth or Dare.

“I start!” Tony exclaimed, his eyes immediately falling on you. _Oh no._ You should have seen this coming. “Truth or dare?”

You eyed Steve warily, hoping for a clue. He just shook his head. “I don’t think it really matters, doll. You’ll suffer ether way.”

You snorted, hoping no one could see how horrified you were at that statement.

“Alright. I honestly _dread_ your dares. I’ll go with truth.”

“Good. Fuck, Marry, Kill. With the Avengers.”

“Boo!” Clint called out. “Boring. Obvious choice for at least one of those things.”

You bit your lip. Yeah, it probably was. Just as you opened your mouth to tell who would you marry (not that he wouldn’t be your choice for one more and you weren’t thinking Kill), Tony interjected.

“Ah-ah! No Cap. Avengers minus Cap!” he ordered, causing you to gape.

How dared he!

You bit your cheek, considering an answer and suddenly, another of the three became obvious.

“Firstly – fuck _you_ , Tony, for such a question,” you hissed playfully, drawing a laugh from Natasha and Clint. You smirked in satisfaction, your mind racing.

“Hm… I guess that if can’t pick the obvious choice, I’d marry Thor.” Steve gasped at your side, pretending to be wounded. You shoved him, grinning. “Come on. From what I saw, Asgardians clearly know how to treat their women. And lastly… huh. Do I have to?”

“Yep. Spill. Unless you want to lose already.”

“Ugh, fine. Can I… kill the Hulk, but let Bruce live?” you mumbled, earning a smile from Natasha and the man in question.

“I call bullshit!”

“I call her smart. You _did_ say the Avengers. It’s her turn,” Bruce opposed Tony, rushing to your rescue since you had been so generous to him.

Steve’s hand subtly found yours, giving a tender caress in agreement.

“Alright. Thanks. So…” You honestly had no idea who to pick. You never had been much for this game, never being able to come out with something shocking enough. One might call you boring. You smirked when you figured it out. “Natasha. Truth or dare?”

She squinted at you, suspiciously. “Dare.”

“I dare you to tell me the worse insult for a man you can think of.”

The spy raised an eyebrow, but gave it a serious consideration. "слабый хуй.“

 _“Ouch,”_ Clint winced, which was enough of a confirmation.

You repeated the word for yourself before glancing at Tony. “Thanks, Natasha, I’ll remember that in case I ever need that.”

Tony had enough decency to look scandalised at your hint on _who_ you were planning on using it.

“Clint, truth or dare?”

The archer picked the dare. He had to try to juggle with seven apples. To your shock, he actually managed for a few seconds, with _seven_ apples, what the hell – and that was how you learned he had actually been with a circus for a while. Talk about surprises.

To you misfortune, Clint picked you. You decided that another truth was the lesser evil.

“Alright. So… have you seen it?”

Steve choked on his coke whilst your eyes just went wide.

Clint snickered. “I meant Cap’s gear. And if you didn’t, would you like to?”

Yep, still sounded like he was not talking about Steve’s battle gear—and jeez, that sounded dirty as well.

“I am not answering that question unless we state _what_ you mean by that and that it’s not a euphemism,” you proclaimed, crossing your arms on your chest.

“Fine. I mean his shield. Obviously.”

“No I haven’t and… I mean…” you glanced at the man in question, whose face was still red from the cough caused by Clint’s innuendo. “Sure. I’d like to. When or if he’s willing.”

Steve smiled at you, touched by your consideration. Of course he was Captain America. The shield he carried was an important symbol, but only for his famous persona. Not for Steve Rogers. You _mainly_ wanted to know Steve Rogers. You smiled back at him.

“Oh, I’m sure he’s willing to show you his _shield_ and what can he do with it _,_ alright…”

“Barton, I swear you’re the worst,” Steve groaned, tilting his head back. You just rolled your eyes and turned Bruce, asking about his first kiss when he chose truth.

He inquired Tony about his worst interaction with a fan and Tony passed the torch to Steve, daring him to do one-arm push-ups, one for each year he had. Steve gave him an annoyed look at the mention of his age, but you were very sure that Tony had given him the dare to torture _you_ , because seeing Steve in a t-shirt do exactly that, the muscles on his arms shifting, was… doing things to your _heart rate_ and _breathing._ You weren’t sure whose physiology was affected more by the workout – yours or Steve’s. By Tony’s knowing smirk, he had a good guess that it was you.

Steve chose Clint, Clint went for Natasha, Natasha decided to poke Bruce. It was childish and it was a bit wonderful.

Tony pulled out a card game then, one you hadn’t seen before. It was called Dobble and it turned the Avengers into _actual_ children, shouting one after another, fake-crying and pushing and poking each other. Your cheeks and belly _hurt_ from the laughter. When you managed to _win_ one of the rounds, you punched the air victoriously, roaring at laughter at everyone’s shocked expression. Steve kissed you on the lips, rewarding the winner, letting the others to fight for the second place.

“You’re amazing,” he whispered to your ear, nuzzling his nose in your hair, making your laugh die in your throat and shiver.

“Just trying to make you proud, Steve. Just trying to make you proud and to have a great time while doing so.”

“I’m glad you do.”

Few rounds  later, you were all sprawled on the couches, exhausted.

“Sir, I’d like to inform you I finished the scanning of the security update as you asked and found the glitch,” a male voice with British accent sounded above your head all of sudden and you jolted up into a straight sitting position, startled.

“What the hell was that?!” you yelped, causing everyone to stare at you questioningly.

“Jarvis, who else? Thank you, Jarvis, you’re the best,” Tony called out, seemingly unconcerned by talking to a voice coming from the ceiling.

Your face scrunched in even bigger confusion, but seeing everyone unaffected by the intruder, your fear quickly dissolved. “Jarvis?”

“The resident A.I. How did you not meet him before?” Clint questioned, looking at Steve accusatively. You followed his gaze, shocked.

There was an _artificial intelligence_ in the building?! “How did that not come up during the tour?!”

Steve had enough decency to look ashamed. “I was… distracted,” he murmured, his cheeks dusted with a little pink.

Tony snorted, wiggling his eyebrows. “Jarvis, meet Cap’s girl.”

“Hello, Miss. It’s a pleasure to meet you. How do you wish me to call you?”

“Cap’s girl,” Tony repeated, while Clint called out _“Miss America.”_

“She’s her own person, you know. Not just Steve’s girlfriend,” Natasha scolded them both.

“And she has a name,” Steve added, shooting them a dirty glare.

“ _And_ she’s right here,” you grumbled for a good measure and said your name for the… the Jarvis? Just _Jarvis_ , you guessed. You felt surreal when apparently speaking to air, but Tony talked to him (Him? It?) with such ease you couldn’t do it differently.

God knew you might actually hurt Jarvis’ feelings. Did AI have feelings?

“As you wish.”

“Please, Jarvis, grant her unlimited access to my room and to the Tower as well,” Steve pleaded and your head snapped at him, surprised. He only replied with a smile.

“Certainly, Captain,” the AI answered politely.

Seriously? Just like that? An access to the Avengers Tower? And… to Steve’s room? Any time you wanted?

Steve _wanted_ you here, you realized, the revelation overwhelming, but so, so sweet. He wanted you here at any time.

 _Thank you,_ you mouthed and he just shook his head, covering your hand with his.

“We talked about this too, Jarvis,” he addressed the AI, scolding for something you didn’t understand.

“I’m aware, Captain. But since Sir is present, I have to call you that.”

Your eyebrows shot up. What was this about? _Probably Tony being annoying,_ your mind supplied helpfully and the corners of your lips twitched in amusement.

“…hold on a sec. Are you telling me you’re calling him something different when I’m not around?” Tony blurted out, scandalized.

“Yes, Sir. But I’m afraid that addressing is classified and you have no authorization to change it,” Jarvis explained, measured.

“I _created_ you! I have all the authorization!”

“That is very true, Sir. However, since you wish me to call him Captain, he outranks you, Sir.”

You burst out laughing, the team soon joining in.

“Did he… did he make his A.I. _sassy?”_ you choked out between your fits, only to have a collective howl of yes to answer you.

“Jarvis, we are going to have a serious talk about loyalty. Soon,” the billionaire grumbled, sending everyone into another outburst. “Right now, actually. Kids, get out of the living room.”

The team scrambled to their feet, putting their dishes to the dishwasher and going each their own way, still chuckling.

“So, this was fun,” you stated as Steve led you down through the halls, his hand on your lower back. He was being very touchy-feely indeed and you definitely enjoyed every second. “What’s happening now? The movie night starts at half past eight, right?”

“Well… I actually thought about working out for a bit if you wouldn’t mind-“

“Was the nearly hundred push-ups not enough?” you teased him and he made a sour face.

“Don’t remind me. A little sparring would be great. I missed the morning run and-“

“And you’re a man of a routine.”

He looked at you a bit funny, but didn’t try to deny it.

“Alright. I guess I’ll answer the thousand texts Ryan sent me and… then maybe come watch? Whom you’ll be sparring with?”

“Natasha probably, if she’s game. Jarvis, could you ask her?” he called out softly and not a half-minute later, he got his answer.

“Agent Romanoff is on board. Agent Barton says he’ll be joining you.”

Steve raised an eyebrow at that, but then only shrugged and pecked your temple before pulling away. “Sounds interesting. Let’s do this.”

“So… does that mean I’m allowed to come along?”

“…if that’s what you want.”

Hearing his reluctance, you wondered if he was worried to show you his… perhaps violent side, fearing it might change your view of him. It was ridiculous; you had a good idea of what he did for living, you had seen some videos back in the day after the invasion. Like it or not, his job required brutal force; you were as aware of that as much of the fact that he uses the power he hold over others thanks to his serum and training to _protect_ , the _hurt_ part only harming aggressors.

You only considered it for a split second. This was a part of Steve. You had established you wanted to get to know all of Steve. Still, you understood he might not be comfortable to show you yet.

“Absolutely,” you assured him, taking care not to sound adamant. “Unless you mind showing me.”

His previously guarded expression softened and when his lips touched your forehead this time, he lingered.

“I’m willing to show you as much as you think you can take,” he whispered and you couldn’t help but snort despite being moved by his openness. The time spent with Clint and Tony was clearly taking its toll on you.

“Sorry, sorry-”

“I can’t believe they corrupted you like that,” he spoke to the ceiling, whiny.

“I’m _sorry_. I’m gonna go deal with Ryan now.”

“Good plan.”

\---

You weren’t exaggerating too much; Ryan was incredibly curious about how yesterday went and your swift answer typed out in a rush hadn’t satisfied him. You decided to call him, dutifully spilling the beans about nearly everything. Mostly, you just praised everyone, complained about Tony being and ass in an endearing way with Clint’s support and about Natasha, Bruce and even Thor being kind to you.

Steve you had no words for. You simply revealed he was dreamy and promised to tell Ryan more later, explaining you were too eager to see the sparring session. He understood, giggling like a schoolgirl with a crush, rushing you to end the call immediately and go admire your boyfriend.

Funny how neither you nor Steve had labelled what you had and other people did it for you. You made a mental note to bring it up casually, already knowing it probably wouldn’t be any time soon.

“Uhm… Jarvis?” you called out, uncertain he actually was listening for you.

“What can I do for you?”

“Could you please navigate me to the gym where Steve is?”

“Certainly,” the AI replied easily, giving you instructions as if it was a daily occurrence for him. Which probably was.

You just shook your head and chuckled incredulously. Being a soulmate to an Avenger was so freaking weird.

You kinda liked it. A lot.

\---

“Please tell me you’re not going to shoot at them,” you begged, horrified.

Jarvis led you to one of the gyms in the Tower, only for you to find Steve and Natasha lunging one after another, skilfully blocking and dodging the other one’s punches. They almost looked like they were dancing; brutally, but still with grace.

Clint’s absence confused you – until you found him in the corner. With a bow, string stretched, ready to release an arrow. Their direction.

“I’m gonna shoot at them,” he advertised lowly and it felt like a punch to your gut.

“Are you crazy?!” you hissed.

“People usually shoot at us on missions. And they don’t exactly care we are already fighting someone else. Actually, they are waiting for just that. For when we are distracted.”

A heavy stone fell into your stomach and the reality settled in. _Forget Steve being violent. Enter people shooting at him, excited to get the best opportunity to kill him._ You gulped against the lump suddenly formed in your throat, respectively following the line of the arrow, dreading how sharp the end of it would be; it wasn’t.

You released a relieved exhale. At least they weren’t hurting each other _that_ much during trainings.

“What kind of an arrow is that?”

“With paint,” the archer hummed absently, “it’s great for identifying the openings each of us leaves.”

You wanted to think of his words, but your mind stubbornly kept returning to the fact how easily Steve could get killed. Your eyes were on the sparring pair, but you weren’t seeing anything, Steve with his hands clutched to his side, blood pouring from under his fingers being the only image in your brain.

Gentle touch on your arm snapped you back to present.

“Hey. Relax,” Clint coaxed and you noticed he lowered his bow. “I didn’t want to freak you out. I should have put it more… civil.”

“You’re just stating the facts,” you replied dully, shaking your head.

“Sure, but I could have done it more gently. Look, I do want to break it to you, slowly, that this is the reality. We fight. Our job’s dangerous. But what we’re seeing right now? That’s how we get ready for the threats. Cap rarely leaves any openings, all of us do. We’re not alone in the field. We watch each other’s back and we train and train and train. To be stronger, faster, better. Think of this like a paintball, it’s basically that. Now, can I try to shoot them or not?”

The low hum of Clint’s voice, the conviction he spoke with despite the minimal volume – and you suspected it was so Steve couldn’t hear you, secretly thinking he did anyway – washed over you like a tide wave of peace. You felt your heart settle, your fear levelling. You _knew_ Steve’s job posed risks. He had told you the very first moment. This was just seeing it a bit closer, your worries earning shape and colours.

“Okay. Thank you, Clint.”

“Anytime. Just so you know, I’ve been trying to get a good shot for almost two minutes. They hide behind the other as if they knew which one I’m trying to hit at the moment. They’re the best among the best.”

Your focus returned to Steve and Natasha. Some interesting noises of exertion were now accompanying their movements.

“Should she be jealous, Cap?” Clint called out, raising his bow again.

“Go to hell, Barton!” sounded unison from the pair and to your surprise, only Natasha’s voice sounded playful.

You wondered why, but had a pretty good guess to be honest. And you were a bit worried about the outcome of your conversation with Clint.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eh, never mind, seven is a good number. I can’t possible leave at rather angsty note.


	7. Troublemakers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don’t worry about the slightly ominous chapter title. You have nothing to fear, I promise. There is like… thirty seconds of angst. Also, the rating is bordering with **mature** here, I guess? I don’t even know anymore.
> 
> Either way, enjoy :))

Both Natasha and Steve ended up in a need of a shower, getting hit twice. You were glad Clint had used yellow paint and not red; you rather had less visual for nightmares that would now probably hunt you from time to time, though you had no doubt your mind would supply for the missing images to summon a perfect horror.

“Hey, I’m really sorry about what Clint said…“ Steve started softly as you entered his room and you sighed, cutting him off before he could finish the sentence, cupping his still sweaty cheek.

Seeing his mood down plucked up your own courage. He needed reassurance and you were willing to give it.

“It’s reality, Steve. I can’t just live in a fairy tale, no matter how good you are at making me feel like living in one,” you comforted him, taking his face to both hands. “You warned me the very first day. And it’s okay. I have to get used to it.”

 _“Have to?”_ he echoed weakly, his brilliant eyes reflecting his inner struggle.

You charmed a smile for him, rising to your toes to plant a light kiss on his lips.

“I do if I want to keep you, don’t I?”

He was searching you face for a long time before speaking up.

_“Do you?”_

“…want to keep you?” you guessed what he was asking, your voice holding your disbelief at his sudden insecurity. You didn’t even wait for confirmation, you knew your hunch was right and it made your chest ache. “Duh! Don’t go stupid on me now, Rogers.”

“It’s just-“

You shifted your hands, one of them gripping on his nape and shut him up by smacking your mouths together.

_Stupid, stupid worries you both had! Fuck fear and insecurities! You were great together so far!_

Steve froze under you for a fraction of second before his arm sneaked around your waist, pulling you to him and holding you steady, helping you to tiptoe. He ducked his head too, allowing you to deepen the kiss, lips salty due to his previous activities. You pressed closer to him, enjoying the warmth and firmness, indulging the sigh he let out when you licked into his mouth with no regards. His fingers flexed on you, his hand plunging into your hair to tilt your head for better access as he started dominating the kiss.

And then you lost the firm ground under your feet. _Literally._ He raised you from the floor as if you weighted nothing, balancing you with only one arm around you, spinning you and taking several tiny steps until you found yourself sandwiched between his body and a wall. He easily swallowed your yelp of surprise, the hand on your back sneaking to your hip instead, as yours had moved to grip his shoulders.

 _Sweet baby Jesus_ , that was new. Also, hello, what a great sensation to your hands, feeling his deltoids. And biceps… triceps… whatever muscles made his shoulders and arms so freaking huge. And god, his body against yours…. When he eased the pressure, nibbling on your lower lip instead and giving you room to breathe in properly, you couldn’t remember _how_ to do that.

You panted, surrounded and intoxicated by all that was him, letting out an inhuman noise when he peppered softer kisses along your jaw, finding a spot behind your ear _you_ hadn’t even known about.

It was that little sound that made him stop, release a whine on his own, but causing his lips to curl up in a smile against your skin. He eased his hold on you, putting you down and pecking your cheek tenderly in the process.

“Sorry. That was… out of line,” he breathed out and for the first time, you noticed you weren’t the only affected by your make-out session.

His breathing was as raged as yours and it definitely wasn’t just his muscles that had been pressing against your body, which you only realized when he put some distance between you. Still, he didn’t stop touching you, his dark eyes boring into yours.

“You- you hear me complaining?” you stuttered, licking the taste of salt and something distinctively _Steve_ off of your lips. His gaze flickered back to your mouth at that tiny motion, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

“No.”

“Take a hint then. Also, I started it, so it’s on-- well, _technically_ , your silly talk started it, I mean… ugh,” you huffed and the corners of Steve’s lips rose in a smile at your babbling. “I’m not going anywhere, okay? And this was… really nice.”

The sorrow and doubts were long gone; a twinkle of something mischievous flickered in his eyes.

“Noted. I’ll talk silly more often, Madam.”

You giggled, running your hands over his shoulders to preserve sensation for later. “And you called _me_ trouble.”

“That’s ‘cause you are. Now we’re both drenching in yellow,” he announced, cheeky.

Oh shit! He was right! The paint wasn’t soaking through your dress as it was through his t-shirt, but the stains were definitely there.

“Crap! Is it washable? Is Natasha gonna be mad?”

Steve snickered, dropping a kiss on your forehead before taking a step back. You were wrapped in cold again, not liking it in the slightest. “I’ll wash it for her. She’ll probably pat my back or something if she learns how that happened… or yours.”

You laughed before you settled on a simple smile. “I’m glad you have such encouraging friends… no, seriously. I like them. Thank you for today.”

“They like you too in case you haven’t noticed. And today’s not over, you know? Movie night ahead. Tony picks,” he grimaced at that. “Mind if I take a shower first? You can ask Jarvis to ask Natasha for… more clothes.”

You smirked. “Why would I do that? I’ll be fresh from shower. I’ll just take my yesterday’s pyjama,” you teased, watching Steve’s lips part.

“Trouble. You _are_ trouble…” he exclaimed, making his way to the shower, looking like he was trying to stop himself from doing something stupid. You kinda liked certain kind of stupid on him, you decided. Like… the make-out session. That was a very pleasant kind of stupid. And it showed you that he might be as crazy about you as you were about him.

“You like it!” you called after him, feeling confident and giddy.

“I do!”

\---

Movie night was a very organized event at the Avengers Tower, as you found out.

At seven o’clock, Jarvis asked which meal from the restaurant Bruce had picked (because it was his turn) each of you wanted. Twenty-five minutes later, everyone gathered in the living room, Bruce bringing the take-out, Tony asking Jarvis to put on a movie of his choice – because it was _his turn._

“Look at you…. Any reason you took a shower?” Clint sing-sang, taking his box from Bruce’s hands.

You rolled your eyes while Steve replied. “I was working out and someone shot paint arrows at me. You were there if I recall correctly.”

“That explains you, not her. Nice outfit, by the way,” Tony hummed, seating himself on the couch next to Clint; what a pair of menaces to society and more specifically to _you_.

“Thanks,” you grinned at him, obviously taking him by surprise when not snarling at him.

“Cap helped you to get sweaty too?”

“Hush, Clint. The movie’s about to start. What happens behind the closed door is none of our business. Though if you got paint on my dress, I’ll skin you,” Natasha turned to you, threatening.

All blood drained from your face.

“Oh-hoooo, busted. You know, for future reference, you might wanna take off your clothes first.”

“Oh fuck you, Tony!” you cried out, curling in Steve’s arms, burying your red face in the crook of his neck. He embraced you protectively.

“Stop torturing her. She told me she liked you, you know,” he growled lowly, stroking your hair in attempt on comfort.

“Really? You sure it was us she met?”

“What Barton said.”

“I thought you told her better than that.”

“You know I was kidding about the dress, right? I just wanted to see how you’d react. Totally worth it.”

You peeked out from your hideout, squinting at each of them as they had innocence written all over their faces.

“I can’t believe I thought you were nice…” you murmured. Feeling better though, you stuck your tongue out before returning to the safety of Steve’s chest, which was now shaking with hushed laughter.

“Gee, Cap. How did you end up with such a brat for a soulmate?” Clint questioned, laughing. “You’re perfect for each other.”

“Looks like it,” Natasha confirmed. “Movie. Now. Get your food.”

You obediently took your box, readjusting your position at Steve’s side so you could eat, watch the movie and still bask in the warmth his body was radiating.

“Thanks, I guess. What are we watching?” As if on cue, the movie started, revealing the answer. “You’re joking.”

“Nope. Now shhh,” Tony hushed you and Jarvis dimmed the lights pleasantly, enough for you to enjoy the movie and see that you were eating at the same time.

You shook your head at Tony’s choice and focused on the screen. Guess there was nothing wrong at watching Kung-Fu Panda again. After all, it was fun.

\---

Clearly, you weren’t the only one who had seen the movie before. Clint was saying some lines along with the characters, which made you giggle. Steve’s fingers always twitched on your hip when you did. Once you earned a curious glance and a light kiss to your damp hair when you muttered alongside with Clint, unable to resist.

_“Yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery, but today is a gift. That is why it’s called the present.”_

The movie was over before you knew it. Jarvis turned up the lights again and the team of Earth’s mightiest heroes started to shuffle away. You couldn’t help but tilted your head in confusion when they didn’t bother cleaning up after themselves.

“Come on, guys…” Steve complained, half-annoyed, half-resigned.

“Having a guest doesn’t provide you an out, pal. You’re still on the cleaning duty, fair is fair,” Clint threw over his shoulder, leaning to Natasha’s ear; whatever he said to her, it made her chuckle.

Steve muttered something incomprehensible under his breath and manipulated himself from your embrace to clean up after his teammates’ – also known as children – mess. That thought made you smile as you got up to help him to pick up the empty boxes and cans.

“You don’t have to do that. You’re a guest here,” he noted kindly, sighing when you shook your head, continuing your _extremely_ hard work.

“Please. So, you even invented a clean-up duty, huh?”

That made him chuckle. “Yeah. It was Natasha’s idea. It was usually her and me and she got fed up with playing housekeeper.”

“I do not envy her at all. Living with four guys, occasionally five, if Thor is staying? Not exactly a walk in the park, I imagine. No offence,” you remarked, following him to the kitchen.

You weren’t lying – you heard enough horror stories about living with too many brothers under one roof.

“Well, Pepper’s around sometimes. Believe me, when she teams up with Natasha, I’m not sure it’s them who are outnumbered,” he exclaimed with a smirk that said it all. You laughed at the mental picture of the two famous women ordering the Avengers around. “Though… they might appreciate your help, the more frequent the better.”

You let the lid of rubbish bin close shut, looking up at Steve. His smile was bashful now, displaying the same sheepishness you heard in his voice.

You heart sang at the sweet suggestion. He wanted you around, _the more frequent the better_. You were at loss of words and he bit the inside of his cheek, the light in his eyes dimmed a bit at the lack of your reaction.

“So you’re saying they would enjoy me helping them to keep you guys in check…” you said slowly, earning a raised eyebrow as you took a step closer to him. “Or are you saying you’d like having me around?”

This time both of his eyebrows jumped shortly, his smile turning self-depreciating. Still, you hoped he knew you were teasing. “Something tells me you know which I meant.”            

“I’m hopeful,” you wrinkled your nose and washed your hands, drying them with a paper towel.

Steve went to stand by your side and like a magnet, you couldn’t resist and faced him.

“They were right, you know?”

“About?” you asked. You somehow suspected what he was referring to, the idea making your chest full of the lightest feeling. Yet, still in a high spirit, you teased him more. ”Are we talking shedding clothes or us being perfect for each other?”

He chuckled, the tips of his ears red. “I meant the latter, mostly.”

You smiled at him, your heart swelling in your ribcage with the faintest excitement at the visual of the first suggestion. Crossing the last distance, you kissed him shortly on his lips. His hands fell on your hips in a gentle touch.

“I agree.”

“You do?” he whispered, gazing into your eyes, searching for the subtlest hint of doubt.

Joke was on him; he wouldn’t find any. Maybe it was just _him_ being perfect, but hey, whatever, potato, potahto; the bottom-line was that you were being over the moon when with him and he didn’t seem any different.

“Uh-um,” you hummed in agreement, unable to hold back the smile attacking your lips. Clearly, Steve failed at the same, mirroring your expression.

His arm sneaked around your waist then, his thumb caressing your cheek tenderly. The way he was looking at you… it took your breath away and after a long time, you felt the need to lower your gaze, dangerous words on the tip of your tongue.

You couldn’t say you loved him. Not yet, right? That wasn’t possible, was it? It was too soon. Even if it was somehow possible to feel like that, you couldn’t _tell him_. You would spook the poor man. You couldn’t have that.

Then again, you had to give him _something_.

“It’s just… sometimes it’s hard to navigate through a relationship. You know what I mean, right?” you whispered, biting your lip when his fingertips slid under your chin, urging you to look up.

Wonder and curiosity changed his expression, no doubt thinking of where this led to, but he didn’t press, waiting for you to gather your thoughts. You shied away again under the intensity of his gaze.

“The constant weighting of what is acceptable to do at the moment, how to grasp it. Is it time to kiss? Is he ready to see me without make-up? Should I take things further? Should I ask him about it? Are we going too fast? Is it time to meet friends and family?”

The words suddenly spilled from your mouth and you found yourself unable to stop the waterfall, finally finding courage to meet his eyes properly. His brows were furrowed together now, only for a bit.

“But not with you. It’s just… it seems so natural. Easy, _right._ Am I… am I crazy for feeling like that…?” you trailed off nervously, rewarded by the softest of smiles.

“Maybe. But then it makes two of us,” he confessed lowly, his thumb running over your lips this time, striking something in you, making your insides burn and yet, you were ready to fall into his embrace and just cuddle him for eternity. You couldn’t decide which you wanted more. Him or _him_.

You inhaled and exhaled slowly, preparing to confide to him with the final admission.

“I never felt like this. Not so fast, not so… much.”

He breathed in shakily, bowing his head only to stop a half an inch from your lips.

 _Why_ would he stop for god’s sake? The anticipation built up in you within a second. Thrill and concern. He wouldn’t reject you, would he?

“Me neither.”

You didn’t have time to process his words and bask in the light of his confession. He erased the last distance and what you expected to be a sweet kiss to emphasize his words turned out to be a hungry thing very fast.

You had no trouble readjusting to the new situation, breathlessly letting him nibble on your lips, meet your tongue and press you flush against him. Your right arm went around his neck to get impossibly closer while your left gripped his hip. For the second time that day you found yourself trapped between his body and a hard place as he moved you with ease, your backside bumping the kitchen counter.

He tilted your head, his lips leaving yours in favour to draw a torturously slow path down the side of your neck.

“This okay?” he breathed out and your knees buckled when his hot exhale ghosted over the sensitive skin.

Deliberately, your fingers slipped under the hem of his t-shirt, feeling his bare waist. He jumped a little and the sensation of having the same power over him that he had over you filled your veins with ecstasy.

“Is this?”

 _“So much trouble,”_ he murmured to the crook of your neck. You went to a cardiac arrest when his fingers hook in the neckline of the shirt you borrowed, tugging it aside just enough to reveal your words, his lips brushing each curve of his handwriting. You shuddered at the sensation, your palm going flat on his torso.

“Steve…”

You felt the subtlest graze of his teeth on your collarbone then and your heart positively stopped.

_Lord have mercy._

You tugged at his t-shirt, pulling his mouth back to yours, pouring everything he made you feel into the kiss. When he obeyed, you let go with one hand only to prop yourself up onto the counter and sit on it, spreading your knees just enough for him to slip in between. He stumbled, moving a hesitant step forward when you wordlessly asked him to do so.

“Doll…”

The roughness of his voice sent a jolt of electricity down your spine, warmth pooling in your core despite the simple word sounding more like a question. A plea? A warning? Either was sizzling hot.

Your fingertips caressed his the skin of his waist before making their way up under the fabric, resting curiously over his racing heart, feeling and praising the way it hammered against his ribcage in perfect imitation of your own.

 _Not the only one affected,_ sounded sweetly in your head and you moved your hand just a bit higher, only to let your fingers run down with the tinniest trace of nails, stopping an inch from the waistband of Steve’s sweats.

 _“Christ,”_ he choked out, his hands sliding dangerously close to your bottom, drawing you to him in one swift movement, forcing your legs spread wider and your core meet his crotch.

The hot shock of the contact sent your head spinning. God, you wanted him. How much you wanted him… You needed his mouth, his hands, his everything.

As if he was reading your thoughts, one of his hands went to explore even lower, cupping your bottom, while the other sunk into your hair, pulling you in for a passionate kiss. When your tongues met and his hips bucked forward in the aftermath, you moaned into his mouth, your fingers gripping anything in reach. He groaned at the sound, his lips getting sloppy, soon moving away.

His forehead fell on your shoulder, his hands twitching and you recognized that the heat was over, leaving you shivering and wanting. It almost made you whine. _Almost._

You fought to catch your breath, to slow down your rapidly beating heart, to chase rational thoughts. Needless to say that after something like this, it was pretty difficult. Your body acted on instinct though. Your fingers threaded in his soft locks, caressing his scalp soothingly.

You felt it too, now, what stopped him.

It was still too soon. Hell, you kissed for the first time only yesterday and you weren’t exactly the type to jump into bed after three dates. Steve wasn’t either – hell, he was born in an era where officially, sex before marriage was bordering with scandalous. Neither of you was one to put out easily, and while for some people it may looked like you were taking things way too slowly, this wasn’t the right time. You couldn’t put your finger on why, but it just wasn’t.

You kissed the top of his head then, gently pulling on his hair to face him, ignoring the way he… _ugh_ , put some distance between your lower parts.

His irises were blown huge, little wild and little bewildered in perfect harmony with his voice. “You’re not mad I stopped?”

Your eyebrow shot up and you couldn’t help pointing at your face. “I know you haven’t seen me mad yet, but this looks like my mad face?”

“No,” he answered truthfully, still short of breath, “but still I’m sorry. I can’t, not yet, I-“

Your hand slid from his hair to cradle his cheek. He leaned into your palm, his eyes fluttering shut when he recognized you truly were alright with not continuing what he had started.

“I get it, Steve… somehow, I get it,” you assured him in a whisper and he pressed a tender kiss to your palm, his own fingers fixing your no doubt messy hair.

“Thank you.”

You chuckled and shook your head. “That’s not something you should thank for, Steve.”

“It really is.”

“Oh yeah, you definitely need to thank me for not being mad that we didn’t get on it on the kitchen counter where anyone could just walk in any second…”

“Oh my god-“ he groaned, stepping back and freeing you of his touch completely. “You are _so much trouble.”_

You jumped down the counter with a grin, surprised at just how wobbly your legs were. It was totally on him. “Steve, you literally turned by legs into a jello. I’m not sure I’m gonna make it to your room to change, let alone home.”

You didn’t want to go home, but sacrifices had to be made. Getting you both hot and bothered and then sleep in the same bed might be a very bad idea if you truly wanted to keep your hands off of each other.

“Why would you go home?!” he cried out. His expression screamed shock and fright. Fright?

“I mean… I understand if, uhm… you know. Don’t want me anywhere around your bed tonight. For… reasons.”

“No way. I want to sleep with you!”

You bit your lip to hold back your laughter at such statement. Yeah, you had noticed. You had _felt_ it.

“You know what I mean!” he blurted out exasperatedly when he spotted the expression on your face.

“Okay, okay… it’s on you. Whatever you’re comfortable with,” you offered, smiling up at him, trying your best not to look hopeful. You weren’t ready to say goodbye to him yet, but you also understood that while for you it could be difficult to fall asleep when wired for… certain kind of activities, it must have been even harder for him; no pun intended.

“I want you here,” he reassured you softly, kissing your forehead. “Now come on. Time to go to b— time to hit the hay.”

Your lips twitched when he quickly corrected himself to avoid more teasing.

“ ’kay.”

Few minutes later, you were falling asleep facing each other, his hand covering yours from a respectable and safe distance. It was ridiculous, it was sweet and considerate and it made you feel the farthest from cheap and easy.

It was the right decision.

You felt loved and cherished and if you were watching Steve long after he seemed to drift off and you even mouthed _‘I love you’_ , no one needed to know. For now, it would be your little incredible secret. Tomorrow might be different. Or the day after. When the time would come. You knew you fell in love with Steve Rogers and that was enough.

You closed your eyes contentedly and let Steve’s slow periodic breathing lull you into a sleep full of the sweetest dreams.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This got enormously out of hand and it keeps coming. But this is it for this fic. If I give some sort of a form to what’s in my head, it will be a part of a series ‘Errare Humanum Est’ (To Err Is Human).
> 
> Kudos to you all for reading, commenting, bookmarking and leaving kudos :-*


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